


Requiem

by Xycuro



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Punisher (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arson, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociation, Drinking, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of Suicide, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Secret Organizations, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Undercover Missions, a lot of earth 616 elements here (please read disclaimer), burn injury, minor character cameos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 99,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xycuro/pseuds/Xycuro
Summary: After the events of the fallen, the world became quiet. Quiet enough to allow those hiding in the shadows to come out and wreak havoc. They forced the remaining vigilantes to wake up and pick up the pieces, whether they want to or not. They walk through hell to end the chaos and allowed themselves to become closer together.As the saying goes: For better or For worse.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 68
Kudos: 83





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are finally! Last year, I wrote a long rough draft fic in late January and left it for a bit to write other fics. Earlier this year, I decided to revisit it and revise it into an actual story and started writing it. Of course with everything that's going on lately, it gave me time to actually write it, and it's now my turn to make the post Infinity War Fratt fic. It's been a busy few months working on this project, but I finalized the plot and wrote enough chapters to release, so I'm ready to share it. I'm still currently writing more chapters, and the ones that are already finished just need to be fixed up a bit before they're published. Please read the disclaimer before continuing since it's important and so that you won't feel completely lost.
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> I'm probably going to say this a lot but this fic is very heavily canon divergent. Everything that happened before this story will keep its mcu elements, but with a few changes. After that, this story is mostly going to have earth 616 (comicverse) elements. Sorry, I'm not a fan of the mcu so that's why there's so many changes, so I'm warning you guys now before you read the story. I'll give a brief list of what's changed and what will be consistent:  
> -This is all post-canon of the netflix shows and movies. However, it's only going to be up to Infinity War. The only thing I kept from Endgame is the 5 year timeline and that's it. I absolutely hate Endgame and that will not be touched upon here.  
> -There will be a few canon divergent changes mentioned throughout the story such as Matt being Latine, his actual radar sense from the comics, an alternative ending to Jessica Jones season 3, mcu Spiderman (Tom Holland movies) not existing and being replaced with earth 616 Spiderman, more comic verse elements and characters will be introduced, etc etc.  
> -This story is only going to mention Avengers and other movie elements in the background, other than that, it's mostly going to focus on fratt and other main characters.  
> I will be updating the tags as the story progresses. I will also be adding trigger warnings at the beginning notes of later chapters if they're needed. If there's a warning I missed or that I should tag, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> Huge thanks to Elektrolizardprince, Goldenspecter, and Supersonicsidekick for beta reading this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  
I

  
  
  


  
Nothing seems real anymore.

Even when the screaming continued to rise from the edges of the world, it still felt unreal.

Undying misery coursed through the streets, plaguing the city. It became a stain that constantly reminded those who survived of horrors from before, when everything fell apart. It was something Matt would never expect to happen. The disappearance of heartbeats—following each other one by one—that left the world in an insidious stand still. His memory of the event haunted him, the sudden silence forever imprinted in his mind. 

Far away gasps interrupted his thoughts, sudden spikes of fear on his radar. 

It was still clear in his head. No matter how many times the bottle tried to soothe him away from it, it always came back.  
  
The rise of panic spread like a wildfire throughout the streets. Empty vehicles crashed into one another when the people behind the wheel disappeared. Screams of the witnesses transformed into a blur of riots while many items such as phones and weapons dropped to the floor like dead flies. So very slowly. His people. His city. In state wide panic over the ones that began to fade away right before them. Foggy and Karen’s presence became out of reach when they started to feel terrified of what was happening, when their bodies began to disintegrate. He still remembered it like it was yesterday, how they were so confused, so _scared._ Even when Matt tried to reach out and level them from their legs turning into dust, it wasn’t enough to calm them. Their quivering voices echoed in his head, begging for something, _anything,_ to help them _._ It wasn’t enough to _save_ them. 

Just like the rest of the unfortunate, they were gone.

After the unholy phenomenon, the surge of panic went through more stages of grief. Those who remained sought out answers to the questions that led them nowhere. Day one was the start of the nightmare, where the storm had finished and left everyone with the aftermath. Matt did everything he could to help anyone he came across. Even those who didn’t disappear suffered from the consequences of outside casualties. Passengers in hospital beds due to their drivers turning into dust. Helicopters that crashed into buildings. Explosions of unattended construction sites that boomed into the air, which served nothing but to create flashbacks of Midland Circle. The cacophony in and of itself was painful. Matt had to keep moving when it came to the beginning of the end, and when he expanded his radar to try and pick up one more heartbeat, the church gave him no answers. It only gave him more panic from before, only this time, they were in the shape of stuttering prayers and sobbing children. Sister Maggie had disappeared too, along with many other nuns and orphans.

Everyone he cared about was gone.

As the days passed, Matt kept going. He had to when the city cried out for help. Even when the public had their questions answered from the worldwide message the Avengers sent out, and people immediately began to blame them for the epidemic. Even when fear transformed into anger, leading to more disasters and more hatred, Matt had to keep going. He had to keep helping others as much as he could, even when the weight of everything dragged him down. 

However, Matt came to realize his limits in the aftermath.

As each day dragged onto the next, Matt felt emptier and emptier. More and more screams cried out, and yet his efforts led him nowhere. Soon enough, as society tried to pick up the pieces, the public slowly went back to normal. After accepting the truth, crime began to leak out from the corners. They wanted what was left, the scraps. Although Daredevil came in to ease the pain from the city, it always found a way to rip off the bandages and create more destruction.

From the ashes of those lost sparked a whole new fire. It was hidden before from fear, but now that many were no longer afraid to bare their teeth at the Avengers, and their hatred made it all too easy for chaos to ensue. The promises the heroes made when they decided to go after the cause of it all meant nothing when they left the planet. They were gone, and the rest of the world was forced to clean up the mess they made. 

And with that, those who were against them had a stronger voice. 

They were not afraid to make it loud and clear.  
  


As crime rose Matt truly felt the exhaustion underneath his skin. Sleep was never easy for him, but now it became a part of the chaos, going against him in every way possible. 

Daredevil wasn’t enough. Every other vigilante blocks away from him wasn’t enough. It was all he had left, and he couldn’t even fulfill that responsibility. He was forced to face the bitter truth, that he can’t save everyone, especially not when those closest to him were gone and their ghosts only reminded him of his failure. Matt lost the strength he needed to keep the Devil at bay. Both from the rage that made him leave his enemies to bleed out and the false comfort that alcohol gave him whenever it entered his system.

The nights before him were transforming themselves into a new routine for Daredevil. They would create another type of fire for Matt to try to put out, one that seared him to the point of fighting back with the same flames. Vigilantes were looked down upon before, but they always had a side of the public that held hope for them. Now? Both sides were against them. Criminals hated them more than before to the point where they would try to hunt them down for sport. The Avengers, X-Men, the main sections of SHIELD, they all left Earth just for the rest to take the blame. 

This was their life now.

Gunshots became periodic when Daredevil continued his new routine. The Devil inside was stuck in a state where his soul could no longer be sated. It was continuous to the point where Matt would spend the entire night cleaning up the streets, beating those who deserved it to a pulp just to ignore his day life. Attorney at law Matthew Murdock was nothing but a memory. Matt couldn’t bring himself to return to the office after what had happened. He couldn’t bring himself to take another step near the building, both the office and the bulletin. Couldn’t bring himself to contact the remaining Nelsons to at least comfort them with the idea that their family friend was still alive. They would only bring back the bitter reminder that Foggy was gone, and Matt wasn’t sure how many times he had broken down over it. Brett Mahoney went around to try and piece everything back together and Matt couldn’t bring himself to face him either. Just like before, Matt decided to only live out his life as the Devil.

Only this time, it was permanent.

The sudden increase of bodies that were riddled in bullet holes became apparent when Daredevil went through patrol. It was the same case again. Criminals would die from the gunshot wounds before the vigilante could sniff them out. What left Matt concerned was not the fact that someone (or some group) was out there spreading more death. It was the fact that Matt couldn’t find himself to care anymore.

Eventually, Matt began to put together the clues and formed a pattern from the rise of body count. He knew who was behind it all, but the Devil snarled inside and Matt had no choice but to listen and kept moving forward with his own plans. Death was a part of the routine, and Matt's last shred of hope had withered away to join the past. 

Matt could never forgive himself.

After each routine, instead of falling asleep and embracing whatever nightmare his mind will conjure up, Matt picked a random liquor bottle from the cabinet and went to work with it. Anything to make himself numb against the chaos was enough. Anything to make him fall into a comatose state that almost resembled sleep. It was enough. It silenced the screams of the outside and the Devil that never stopped clawing at his soul. Another night of the same shit he had become used to: sitting against the wall of his apartment and taking swigs whenever another intrusive thought became too real. 

While he drank alone, the sound of someone picking at his window lock made its way in the apartment. The bare smell of gunpowder entered and Matt didn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

Of course he would find out where he lived and try to let himself in. The first surprise of his survival came from the dying breath of a human trafficker. Matt felt something that was the closest thing to hope, even if it was a hint of it. Though, it was cast aside when he reminded himself on who was behind the gun. When the lock broke free, Matt didn't pay attention to the footsteps that approached him. He kept himself in place and prepared to steer away from his unwanted guest. 

"You look like shit, Red." 

Never let it be said that the Punisher wasn’t charming. 

Matt couldn't help but let a scoff slip out, stifling it with another swig from whatever brand of whiskey he picked. He had lost track of how long it had been since the night he and Elektra fought off the Hand with the Punisher's help. It had been a long time since Matt was in the same room as Frank Castle.

It had been longer than the weeks of hell the world endured.

"Frank…" Matt said in his own way of a greeting. His voice gave him an ugly reminder of how long his own stage of grief was taking. While the world tried to move on from the destruction, he was still moping in a corner. He allowed himself to be destroyed alongside the chaos. Stick would have laughed if he saw him now.

Frank hummed lightly, inspecting the situation in front of him. There was a sort of sag in his shoulders, as if the bulletproof vest he wore weighed him down just as much as Matt's grief did. He could tell the other man was tired, and that he wanted something. 

"Karen was one of them…" Matt spoke up again to break the silence. "I'm sorry… she's gone." 

"I know, Red," Frank’s voice was quiet, almost uncharacteristic. Frank stood there and stared right at Matt, but he was holding back something. "I tried calling her when it happened and I got nothing. You confirmed my suspicions." 

_Great, now leave_ , Matt thought to himself. Frank’s presence was painfully distracting. 

"Now that I got one answer, mind telling me why you've been completely careless lately?" 

Matt tightened his jaw, refusing to pay attention to the anger in Frank’s voice. "Why the hell do you care?" 

Frank didn't waver from his gaze. "Last time I checked, you did everything you could to stop a scumbag from dying. Now, you're not giving a shit anymore. What gives? You're making things too easy for me; you're letting me off the hook, and that doesn't bother you?"

"Because I'm a coward, like you said before," Matt shrugged. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

"No…" Frank growled as he moved closer. "What the hell is the matter with you? I thought you were better than this, Red. You're letting me take out any scumbag I encounter and what, your little code isn't enough anymore? All that shit from before means nothing to you now?"

"Something like that," Matt replied curtly, moving to take another swig. But before he could, Frank attempted to grab the bottle from him. Matt was barely able to move away in time. 

"It pisses me off to see you like this. Here I thought I could get some sort of insight and all I find is a mess bigger than the one outside." 

"Oh, so _I'm_ worse than the aftermath? That's rich," Matt sneered back. "Again, why the hell do you care? We're not friends, Frank. We helped each other a few times before and that gives you the right to waltz in here and question my motives? I thought you would be happy to have a hunting ground now that I'm out of the picture." 

He can tell Frank was taken aback by the response, as much as he tried to keep himself under control. Matt couldn't really blame him when he gave him a response like _that_. There was no point in playing the hero. Not when everyone was already against the idea. Not when Matt had already edged himself close to the border of murder when Fisk came back. Not when everyone he wanted to protect was gone and he was left with nothing. 

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Frank asked. "You're already giving up and this is what you're going for? The fact that I'm starting to feel sorry for you is an understatement." 

"Then leave, I'm not your problem." 

"No, but I'll be your problem if you don't drop this act. It’s been weeks, Red." 

"Why do you _care?"_ Matt gritted his teeth. 

"Because the world is falling apart and you're letting that happen; I came here for a solution." 

"I'm a solution?" Matt laughed bitterly. "I think you need to keep looking."

"There's nowhere else for me to look, Red. I’ve already had my losses, more than before now, but I'm not falling apart," Frank paused for a moment, waiting for a response. Matt still tried to ignore him. He wished that Frank's judgement was just some cruel hallucination his mind created. "What happened weeks ago...I knew I had to come back here. Shit was getting worse in the city and a part of me knew that the aftermath would lead to your One Bad Day. Instead, I found some sad asshole rather than the Devil." 

"And who the hell do you think you are? Breaking into my home and criticizing me for what I've done?" Matt rose from his spot, his knees protesting before he faced Frank again. He wanted to point out the other man’s methods were nothing but grief-driven rage. That was the entirety of the Punisher—how it all started—and Frank was trespassing way too close to hypocritical territory. "I've done everything I could to help and that is what I'll keep doing. Now you're going to claim that what you're doing is better? Piss off, Frank." 

Frank growled. "What you're doing isn't enough, and drinking alone in a dark apartment isn't going to be enough if you don't snap out of it. I know you're not a killer, but you're being careless enough to have bodies pile after you and I'm not going to let you do that." 

"So is that what you're here for? Cause I doubt I'm the solution to your problem." 

"No, you're a solution to my proposition."  
  


What was he going on about?

"What proposition?"

Frank took a deep breath as he kept himself leveled, despite Matt being very close to kicking him out. He waited for a few minutes before Frank began to speak again. 

"The Avengers left and many of their superhero pals got caught in the aftermath. Shit is falling apart and more scumbags are crawling out. Gangs, organizations, you name them, they’re all coming out from their hiding places. I know you still care about this city, about the people who live here. Everyone I know who I could turn to is gone, so I came to find you instead." 

Matt waited while his own anger turned into exhaustion. The fact that Frank was so calm when he spoke was unsettling. 

"You lost your buddy Nelson, didn't you? Karen's gone too, and I bet you they wouldn't enjoy seeing you like this. You know that," Frank continued. "There's a lot of hell that's starting to come out of the woodworks and I would like to have someone back me up. So I'm asking you this, Red: you still believe in what you're fighting for, right? So do good by them and help me keep the chaos down." 

That was it? 

That's what Frank came all the way here for?

Unbelievable. 

Even after another pause, Matt rolled his eyes again, pushing past him to walk over to the kitchen. "This will never work out."

He can hear the quiet sigh that escaped Frank. "Oh come on, Red. Don't be like that." 

"Our philosophies will clash against each other," Matt responded as he grabbed a glass of water. "I arrive too late when you kill someone, that's why I don't even bother going after you. If we work together I would just get in your way and you would get in mine. Besides, I don't need to be looked after. I'm fine with working alone."

"This isn't about babysitting you, this is about watching each other's backs. Do you really think I would've gone to you if I had no choice? If my buddy Curtis was still here, I would've gone to him. If Lieberman was still here, I wouldn't have bothered myself in coming all the way here." 

Matt drank silently when Frank continued. He hated the way Frank had some sort of faith in him. He was almost filled with envy because of how the Punisher kept himself better than he was ever able to.

"I would still be in your way."

"No, you won't, because that's exactly what I want you to do," Frank followed him into the kitchen. "I'm here to make sure you don't break and become a part of the chaos outside. I don't want to find myself going against you just because you lost everything. I told you this before, Red: you're just one bad day away from becoming me and the aftermath could've been that day."

"But I didn't," Matt scowled at him. 

"No, but it sounds like you're about to, especially when you're making things too easy for me." 

Matt scoffed again, "So you want me to help you now? I'm not going to be killing anyone, you should know that by now."

"That's why we have compromises. I'm willing to work with you just so that we can clean up this mess. I need to make sure you're still sane enough to understand that."

"I might stop you from taking someone out. You sure I wouldn't be in your way?"

Matt was doing everything he could to become a hindrance to Frank. A part of him refused to work together with the Punisher. As much as the past gave him a reminder of how well they did so before, even with a compromise he still didn't want to. There was no point. Once Frank was finished with what needed to be done, he'll just leave, and Matt will return back to his corner of sorrow to repeat the pattern again. 

"Last resort," Frank snapped him out of his thoughts. He can hear the frustration from his voice while his patience was on thin ice. "I'll only kill if we have no other option left, got it? I have no one else to turn to, Red. I'm willing to work with your conditions and I'm swallowing my damn pride in asking for your help." _And he expected him to do the same._ Frank didn't say it, but Matt could tell he implied it towards the end.

"I'm telling you the truth about new organizations popping up. I know you understand that. This would help a lot of people."

Matt didn't want to agree, but maybe some foolish part of him wanted to believe that. 

It would help keep them at ease. 

It would help settle the chaos.

It would make those who had fallen rest easier.  
  


Matt felt some sort of tinge flow through, a feeling of understanding. Frank had already lost too much, and this was his way of moving forward. Doing some good for the ones that are still alive. 

He hated that Frank was right. Foggy, Karen, and Maggie would've been pissed if they saw Matt now. Even when so many people were against them, there was still something they could do. Daredevil could still do _something._

The Punisher could get overwhelmed and easily fall to his demise. So could Daredevil. Anyone could at this point if they go up against hell alone.

He realized that Daredevil was the Punisher's last resort. 

"You have no one else to turn to?" 

Frank shook his head. 

"I wouldn't be here if I did." 

Matt took a minute to collect his thoughts, going against the alcohol that was already clouding his judgement. This wouldn't last very long, he thought. It was only a matter of time before Frank decided that the Devil had served his purpose and went off on his own. That's how every team-up Matt had ever done always ended up, and something tells him that Frank's stubbornness won’t take no for an answer. 

For Christ's sake, the Punisher was asking Daredevil to work together. 

Maybe this really was hell after all. 

So be it.

Matt grabbed another glass, offering Frank water with a motion. He nodded, and Matt took advantage of the silence that invaded their conversation once more. 

When Frank took the glass, Matt decided to speak up. 

"As long as we keep those compromises, then I can help you."

And after they finish the job, they can go their separate ways and never see each other again. 

“Deal.”

Their glasses clinked against each other, and Matt took that as a way of sealing the deal. It would have been better if it was liquor rather than regular water, but there was no reason to complain about it. Instead, Matt wondered how long it'll last. A couple of days? Maybe weeks? Hell, it could be five months depending on what will happen after this. 

The other part of him was eager to find out, already aching to throw himself into the night. 

"When do we start?" Matt asked. 

"For now, I'd say we should figure out where to set up for future meetings." 

Matt furrowed his brows. "You want to use my apartment to meet up?"

Frank shrugged. "It can be one of them, but I have an option on where we can go. It's not too far off from the city." He doesn't say anything else afterwards. It left the two of them to sit in silence again while sirens began to announce themselves. 

"We can start tomorrow night," Frank spoke over the sirens as they passed by the building. "I already have a few leads on when and where those bastards are going to strike. Backup would be pretty useful, if said backup was sober." 

Matt didn't feel like arguing over the idea of if he can function drunk or not. 

"Fine, tomorrow." 

It didn't matter anyway. 

After Frank left his apartment, Matt decided to put away the whiskey for now and waited. Waited for the sirens to die down. Waited for tomorrow. Waited for a sign. He cared little for sleep, not when his thoughts raced with ideas of spreading hell towards those that ignited the fire. Even with the Punisher now involved, it began to bother him less and less. His past self had already faded away once he agreed to this new kind of hell. 

For a moment, there was some sort of clarity that went by. Temporary at best, but it almost gave Matt a false sense of hope. 

It didn't last for very long. 

Now all Matt could hope for was another excuse for a bloody, red night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honey, you got a big storm coming :^)


	2. Vestige

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Frank's perspective! This is how the story is going to be formatted: odd number chapters are Matt's pov and even number chapters are Frank's pov. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Goldenspecter and Supersonicsidekick for beta reading!

  
  
II

  
  
  
  
  


The late night routine didn’t change too much in the aftermath.

From the day Frank received a panicked phone call from David Lieberman to the lock picking of Red's window, it felt like the same night over and over again. There will always be a rampant problem of criminals going through cities, taking whatever they want with no concern. The most powerful superheroes decided to leave the planet to stop the one who started it all, leaving many parts of the world defenseless, and many scumbags decided to take the opportunity for themselves. Cities were vulnerable when it came to this, more than ever before.

Frank remembered the day it happened, it was always replaying in his head during his sleep. Hearing David panic over the loss of his family until Frank heard him fade out as well truly unsettled him. He didn't know what he would do if he was there in person. To witness it all right in front of him. He knew that feeling too well, and it haunted him from time to time. 

The only difference was that David was given the privilege to join his family. 

Car crashes stumbled him from his brief moment of truth, especially when they would break phone lines and local supermarkets. Frank tried to call Curtis, did everything he could to reach him and received nothing. The remains of Curtis' house didn't provide anything else, only the multiple phone line poles that landed on top of it. He even tried to call his buddy from the dive school, having some sliver of hope that Amy had survived, only to receive nothing on their end as well. When he tried to call Karen, that was all it took to reveal that most of the people he knew were gone.

It was a complete shit-show outside his apartment: everyone ran around the streets in a flurry, people being hoisted from an accident into a surviving ambulance, fires erupted from places they shouldn't, littering the air with soot. It was hell playing itself for a laugh. 

It was bound to happen when half the population turned to dust, and it only got worse when the Avengers left to fix it. Many other city heroes had disappeared, being a part of what the leftover population now dubbed them as the fallen. Frank knew half of the Fantastic Four turned to dust, along with Luke Cage and Iron Fist. He had a feeling Jessica Jones was probably still around, trying to fix as much as she can for the survivors. Spider-Man joined the Avengers in space, which in turn left his part of New York barren for anyone to destroy. He was sure the web-head had probably been given no choice and was forced to help them. 

It would only get worse from there, and that was just the first week.

As the weeks went by, the news gathered enough information to find the ones that had disappeared. At least there were still a few city heroes around, and Frank remembered feeling some sort of relief when he found out Daredevil wasn't a part of the fallen. 

He hoped initially that Daredevil could handle the rise in criminal activity, still going around as the altar boy he was, protecting Hell’s Kitchen. What Frank didn’t expect was the carelessness the Devil had distributed, allowing a few criminals to slip. Frank had driven back to the city to keep down the chaos and stop it in its tracks. There were plenty of times where Frank shot down scumbags left and right with no remorse. He left a few alive while others were already six feet under by the time he was done with them. Even during the nights where he knew Red was out on a patrol, Frank made sure he was still on track. He wanted to know what the hell the vigilante was doing. Dead bodies began to pile up with each step the Punisher took, but he was never followed by a crimson shadow. Even the police were doing a shit job in stopping both the criminals and the Punisher. It was as if he was off the hook for every action he pulled.

It was a sick routine, and it was one Frank refused to get used to.

The last minute decision of confronting Daredevil by breaking into his apartment wasn’t his preferred way to spend a quiet night, but Frank didn’t have any other option to take. He did enough recon to know Red’s identity, along with where he lived. The moment Matt Murdock took the stand in court to testify in his honor, Frank knew he was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. The way he posed himself when he spoke was enough to give clear evidence. The way Murdock referred to him in a gentle tone when he asked to use his first name? That was what actually hit the nail for it. The suspicions led to guesses, and ever since the ninja fight on the rooftop, the scope on his sniper rifle confirmed it all.

The fact that Red didn’t jump to defend himself and kick Frank out of his home the second he went through the window was strange. Seeing him sit against the wall with a bottle of whiskey, dark bags under his eyes, and looking like an overall mess? That was _concerning._

_“You look like shit, Red.”_

He earned a scoff and a glare from his former lawyer, but Frank didn’t waver from it. He was pissed off. He wanted to know how much grief had truly struck Red if it made him turn into a sad mess. Frank couldn’t blame him for grieving, but with the weeks trickling by and criminal organizations in a steady rise, he expected better from Daredevil. Red should be _pissed,_ he should be using his anger to beat the living crap out of people who deserved it. He shouldn’t allow the Punisher to spread death every time he stepped outside. That wasn’t who he was. The argument they had on the rooftop that first night: right and wrong, justice and vengeance, redemption and damnation. Was that all for nothing if Daredevil was going to drop his stupid code and let anyone kill anyone? Even though it wasn’t spoken out loud, Frank found _some_ respect in Red’s goals. Despite the criticisms he voiced before, the idea of someone doing everything he could to protect his home wasn’t so looked down upon. Red’s naïve beliefs in redemption were almost charming, until Frank remembered that there were many people who didn’t deserve it. Red did everything he could to stop Frank from ending some asshole’s life, and now here he was, voluntarily putting himself out of the picture so that no one would stop the Punisher. 

All he wanted was answers. And when he got those answers, it only made him even more infuriated than before. The idea of Red giving up just like that was sick to his stomach. At one point, Frank started to question himself on why he even bothered showing up in Red’s apartment in the first place. Daredevil has given up and was doing most of his work half-assed, why should he give a shit?

Before his doubts could enter his mind, Frank was reminded by the fact that there was no one else out there that understood the way the world worked.

Despite their differences, there was some sort of similarity Daredevil and Punisher shared. As much as Frank didn’t want to admit it, Red was his last resort; his only solution.

One argument led to another, but eventually, Frank was able to convince Red to help him. Even if it was temporary, it was enough to take down any organizations that tried to rise up from the corners of the city. Hiding his desperation was difficult when it came to the Devil. He didn't understand how Red was able to work around everything, but the quick explanation of heightened senses was enough to satisfy his curiosity. They lived in a world where aliens, mutants, and gods existed. A blind man being able to hear, smell, and taste better than anyone else wasn't something new. 

The first night after their little agreement went the same as how Frank’s usually did. The only difference there was that he had Daredevil to back him up. They wanted to feel useful. They wanted to hunt down anything that dared to move out of place and disturb any sense of peace. Empty shops were now hot-spots for any vandalism and theft. Homes without families were used as the go-to areas for drug dealing and gang operations. It was worse than before. And Red wanted to jump in with nothing but black, long sleeve under armour, dark pants, combat boots, and a pair of wooden sticks. Frank wasn't sure if the vigilante had finally gone mad, but he knew one thing for sure: Red was an idiot. 

Even when the night’s routine began to change, something was consistent within the criminal underground. While they patrolled the streets, Frank felt more like himself again. It was a hunger they both felt, and they wanted to take it out on any low life criminal that kept themselves hidden. Despite the brutality Red displayed when he's out with him, Frank was slightly glad that he distanced himself away from the grief. 

While the weeks went by, the pattern started to become more familiar. Recon gave them better information on what happened throughout a few sections of the city. Groups formed together, creating more gang wars than before and breaking more private property than Frank could count. A few instances with the police showed that Mahoney at least tried to tackle this problem, but it only got worse when they continued to spawn from nothing. 

A few of these local gangs were similar to the Dogs of Hell and the Kitchen Irish from before. There were a few groups that would join together to form a bigger group with more connections, more power. That was probably why law officials had more trouble. Frank had taken down a good amount of gangs before, this would be nothing in comparison. 

They were on the rooftops one night during a mission. Frank watched through the scope while Red was perched next to him, listening for anything. There were a few cases laid out of missing people left and right. Police and city officials suspected that it was one of the new gangs, but Frank guessed it might be another human trafficking ring. Now that half the population was gone, some assholes were still trying to make do with what was left over. 

"There's five of them heading down the subway. Three of them have rifles," Red informed him. Of course they would have guns, and of course Red wouldn't wear any body armor for it. The other few nights of their collaboration only dealt with lowlifes that had knives and broken bottles. Now Red wanted to go head first into a gun fight. Great. 

Before Frank could protest, Red jumped down below to knock a few of them down. He swore up a storm and immediately took the emergency stairs to follow him. _Damn it Red, stick to the plan!_

Frank grunted as he went behind a few of them and shot them in the legs. One of them decided to be brave and take a shot at him before Red threw a baton and knocked the pistol clean off. 

It became almost methodical when the two of them fought alongside each other. While Frank figured Red stuck with a brawler approach, he at least kept some distance from the bullet spray. They didn't want to create any more noise, so Frank made sure to knock out a few of them while the Devil went into a fury. One thing Frank had noticed in their pattern was how brutal Red had become. There was no hesitation for him to beat the crap out of any scumbag they came across. No fancy flips, no rants, nothing. Red was set on one thing, and that was to reign hell on whoever he came across. To focus on the sole purpose of stopping them. Frank could tell he was enjoying it all; listening to them fall to the ground with broken bones as they coughed up blood must've been music to Red's ears at this point. Or maybe this was some sort of new coping mechanism now that Frank was getting in the way of his drinking. Either way, Frank still firmly believed that an angry Red was better than a sad one. 

They called the precinct, dropped off the ones they confronted, and then continued onward into the night. Anything to pick up the slack. Anything to make sure some of New York's personal hell can settle down. Frank didn't feel like yelling at Red about armor just yet. It was best to leave the vigilante to go through this rage until it slept. Frank didn't comment on how much blood dripped down from his knuckles. He was sure Red didn't care.

Their routine stayed like that for a few more nights.  
  


* * *

  
  


"You're here early." 

Red opened the door, inviting Frank inside his loft. The sunlight leaked through the living room windows to start the morning, which gave them a warm illusion, as if the aftermath never happened. Red's tired look, however, didn't match with the view. "Hope I didn't ruin any of your beauty sleep," Frank joked, hoping that would lighten up the mood a bit. All he got in return was a soft hum from the other man, who walked over to the kitchen to throw away a few pieces of food. Alright, at least he came in right after breakfast. 

"I know a place where we can set up meetings," Frank started, even if it was a sudden topic. "It would be useful for the both of us. Your apartment and mine won't be enough to keep my equipment."

Red wouldn't be too keen on Frank bringing multiple sets of guns into his apartment, and his own temporary, tiny apartment wouldn't suffice for it either. They might as well set a firm agreement to use what they can. Each lead they came across was an empty trail, so might as well upgrade a few things. 

Red spoke up. "Where exactly is this place? Is it one of your warehouses?" 

"No, not really; it's a regular house." 

Red's eyebrows furrowed. "You have a house?" 

"It's not mine…"

He figured that now was a good time to take advantage of the vacant house of the Liebermans. As much as Frank didn't want to intrude in some way of respect, there weren't many other options to take. A part of himself knew it wouldn't be right. Hell, Red probably wouldn't be completely optimistic about it either. 

But a memory from before came through. David had mentioned before his trust in Frank along with uses of his home _. "It's only fair since, you know... you helped me save my family…"_

"It belonged to someone I knew. He helped me back then and I helped him so... something tells me that with situations like these, he would've wanted me to use his house in my favor. Worse comes to show." 

What reminded him more painfully was that worse did come to show. 

After a few minutes of silence from the other end, Frank was already backing up his proposal. Red will probably start up some sort of argument again, might as well be prepared for it. But what surprised him was the shrug Red gave him, who then nodded. "Alright then, guess I'll go get ready." 

Well, no need for a backup argument after all. 

The car ride to Lieberman's house was quiet for the first half. Frank focused on the road while Red sat in the passenger seat, leaning slightly to the side. He realized this may have been the first time Red has ever been in his truck, let alone the first time they’ve been in a vehicle by themselves (not counting the boat from back then). The ride to the Lieberman household wouldn’t take too long—less than fifteen minutes or so. At one point in time, the Devil's rambling would've been a nuisance and Frank would've done anything to shut him up. Now he refused to say another word, and the silence was already unsettling enough. To keep the awkward pauses to a low, Frank messed with the knobs of the radio to get to the FM stations. Might as well fill the uncomfortable silence with some music at least. 

"Hope you don't mind country," Frank said casually, leaving it on some country music station. 

He heard Red shuffle a bit in his seat when he shrugged. "You can put on whatever."

"You sure?" Frank didn't know why he asked. Why he wanted to keep a conversation up when the other man clearly didn't want to, he'll never know. And he thought _he_ was the lone wolf here. 

"Yes, I'm sure." 

After a couple more minutes of miles and country music, Frank had changed the channel anyway, going to a random 80s station. Red didn't make any complaints about it, as expected. Frank was so used to having whoever was in the passenger seat have the liberty to control the radio it had become almost second nature. Memories of Maria taking over the radio and tuning into some 70s or 80s music station to jam to. It made up for the road trips he did with his family. Those were one of the only good memories he still had that weren't washed over by the nightmares. However, this wasn't a road trip. This was all about the mission.

"How long til' we get to the house?" Red decided to speak up after three or four songs went through. 

"About five minutes, we're pretty close by now," Frank said as he took the exit and drove carefully through the streets. He tried not to let his eyes trail over to the abandoned cars that still haven't been moved since that day. A few of them were vandalized and robbed of a couple of parts, but they still sat off the sides of the roads or slightly to the middle. "Hopefully it's still standing when we get there." 

The neighborhood appeared better than some parts of the city, having only a few pieces of debris and fallen trees instead of broken homes. Frank remembered Curtis' house and how demolished it looked alongside other homes due to being next to a busy street. Here it seemed there wasn't that much damage in terms of salvage. The Lieberman household came to view, and Frank parked at the curb. There were a few tires from crashed cars that managed to roll over onto their lawn and some leftover appliances of other houses. Other than that, the house still stood just fine, with a few scratches on the windows and some cracks along the sides. Frank had noticed the front door was barely open once he and Red got out of the truck. When they reached the door, Frank spotted a lone burner phone with a cracked screen. A pitiful thought went through, knowing that David must've tried to get help before he began to fade away from existence. Frank tried not to think too much on it and kept moving forward. 

Red trailed behind him once they closed the door completely. He then began to inspect the main area while Frank looked over its emptiness. Books were discarded on the floor, more phones were scattered at the kitchen table along with some chairs. The vacancy on it's own made Frank feel nauseous. The implications of a family unaware of what was happening to them…

A familiar tapping snapped Frank out of those unwanted thoughts. It made him glance over to see Red with his white cane. He was familiarizing himself with paces and was probably testing out how far the sound can reach. "Micro has hidden cameras around the house and a few other appliances in the walls," Frank started as he walked over to pick up a few of the discarded items. "He made sure to gear up his place in case something ever happened to his family when he was away, like a burglary or if the government tried stepping in." 

"Micro?" 

Right, so far for introductions. "David Lieberman; his alias was Micro, don't ask me why," Frank shrugged as he put the phones into a spare drawer, and frowned. "A lot of shit went down with him digging too deep, and that led him to fake his death to protect his family. He's a tech wiz, so that's why he has so much of it all around the house." 

"That's why I'm hearing so much circuit then," Red responded softly, letting his fingers go over the walls in the living room. "It's a soft hum within the walls, and I hear a lot of it tracing back to where the basement is." 

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he still has his main hub down there," Frank glanced over at the staircase that led towards it. "We can use whatever files he's got hoarded in the computers to access locations around the city. I know he still has some access to street cameras and private property areas." And it would be helpful for what they're trying to do. So many reports coming in back and forth of people disappearing and gangs creating more problems than before. Maybe with Micro's work, they can do something about it and be one step ahead of them. 

"That can be useful," Red commented lightly. A few taps with his cane and he soon found the handles to the stairs. "Do you know how to access his computer?" 

Frank remembered a flash drive Micro gave him months ago after reuniting with him again briefly. Despite his initial promise of never returning again, ever since Billy and Pilgrim, David managed to contact him again. The constant back and forth of _"But I could've helped!"_ kept ringing in his head. At one point, David decided to give him a flash drive and a pass code to access his files. Frank called him an idiot for doing so when he wasn't going to interact with his family again. However, Frank found himself slowly becoming an addition to the Lieberman household the more times David managed to convince him in joining them for dinner. The times he tried to sneak out without Sarah and the kids noticing were fruitless. It was another type of routine Frank got accustomed to, despite not wanting to. 

Now they were gone, and Frank was glad he didn't get rid of the vital information David entrusted him in.  
  


"I do, actually; Micro gave me some pass codes and flash drives to access everything," Frank went over to clear the living room table. He placed the duffel bags he got from the truck earlier on top of it. The flash drive was in one of the pockets, but for now, they had to settle into the house. "I'll look over at the computer tonight. Right now, I'm going to see if there's anything else we need. It's a geared-up place, so it should have more than just hidden cameras."

Red nodded, turning his head upstairs before going back over to the living room. He listened in on what Frank was doing, going around the drawers and shelves. "How 'geared-up' do you think Micro's house is? I don't hear anything that could make the walls move." 

Oh, he's making some smartass comments? Now Red started to sound more like himself. "No, but we can always do something about that. Add more to defenses and more devices."

Red tilted his head over at him questionably, probably wondering about _how_ they can do something like that. Frank may have some carpenter skills, but everything else that required technical engineering would require another pair of hands to join in. At this point, they have enough time to figure it out. 

"How temporary do you think this house will be?"

It was a sudden question that came from Red, who had gathered a few discarded items from the floor and placed them on the kitchen counter. Frank opened one of the duffle bags to grab a few number locks to set up, still letting Red's question sink in. From the question alone it was clear Red didn't want to continue this in the long run. Frank didn't blame him for feeling that way, especially with the aftermath still fresh in their minds. He had a feeling that once they took down whatever gang and whatever organization was on the uprising, Red would part ways with him for good and go back to his apartment to sulk alone again. It wasn't supposed to be his concern, and Frank can't stop him from doing so in the end. His mission of keeping the chaos down and making sure Daredevil doesn't become a part of said chaos still stands, no matter how long this collaboration will last.

"It'll last long enough," Frank left the locks on the table before he walked over to the basement. "For now, let's get used to it." 

Just like that, Red relaxed a bit, and followed Frank's lead. 

All he can hope for now was for it all to be worth it in the long run. 


	3. Misery Loves Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinking tw
> 
> I feel like I should highlight that in this chapter just in case. It was mentioned in earlier chapters but here, the two are going to be actively drinking later on. 
> 
> Many thanks to GnomeWithALaptop and Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

  
III

  
  
  


The soft hum from the radio sang alongside the continuous rhythm of the construction inside the house. 

  
  


A few days after Matt became familiar with the house's layout, Frank finished moving his equipment into the basement. They'd agreed to use the Lieberman house for bigger operations, but even with this added 'social time' added to his calendar, Matt was only leaving the apartment once or twice a week at most. Every so often, Frank would pick up Matt to drive him to the house and they would start their plans. In the midst of organizing and recovering, they both found a police scanner stored away in the garage. So while Frank set up the passcode lock that he’d placed at the front door, Matt listened to the scanner for any news that pertains to the uprising gangs. 

Most of what the scanner told him was the same information as before: new gang wars, people disappearing, involvement of leftover SHIELD agents, organizations dividing—it was becoming another pattern again. He kept track of each report that came in, trying to tie one to the other when another officer spoke. At one point he heard Brett's voice come through, sounding exhausted from trying to keep his side of peace. Matt frowned slightly as he messed with the scanner again to hear something else, and again, he was given the same information of petty crimes. 

"I've set the pass code for the lock. The number pad has braille on it, so I'll make a small file for pass codes." Frank entered the living room after a few minutes of static change. 

Matt didn't turn to face him as he continued to mess with the scanner. "Don't worry, I'll memorize the code." 

The sound of boots walking away was the only response he got. Frank headed towards the basement again without another word, and Matt sighed softly before he turned off the scanner for now, allowing himself to pass off into other thoughts. Only a few weeks had gone by with their so-called partnership and already they’d driven themselves into a cycle of dead ends. Matt didn’t want to keep following an empty pattern and hoping there would be something that the two of them hadn’t noticed. Even when they'd come across a lead that may shed some light on their mission, it always ended up bringing them back to the beginning. Stressful wouldn't be enough to describe it. What brought him to a halt was the fact that he was still working with Frank, and how the ex-marine was truly diving into this. Speaking of the Punisher, the sound of heavy boots began to approach him, and Frank placed something on the table.  
  
“Found a couple of bulletproof vests I stored in the basement the last time I was here," He pushed the vest closer to where Matt’s hand was. "Your black outfit doesn't provide any protection, Red. The least you can do is wear a vest until I can find some proper armor for you." 

Matt was about to open his mouth to argue, but then he felt the material himself. Judging by the edges of it, this vest would actually fit him well. It wouldn't weigh him down or be too tight around his torso. If anything, Frank might have chosen the right size for him to wear. As much as he refused to find something similar to the red suit, Matt took this moment to notice that this was a show of concern. It was definitely not a gift. Never would he expect the Punisher to be somewhat worried about him. Then again, Frank had showed up in his apartment (albeit via breaking and entering), and that was enough proof for Matt to know. 

So he decided to not argue with him about the vest. 

Instead, Matt gave him a simple "Thanks" and took the vest to inspect it more. The material was fine on its own and it was light enough to keep him steady. 

It would do for now. 

This was all temporary, after all. 

Might as well follow along with Frank's plan for now. 

  
  


"Anything you got from the scanner?"

Matt shook his head. "Nothing; same cases from before." 

"Damn, might as well be working with nothing," Frank muttered. "I still have the same leads from last time with the drug cartels."

"Right." 

Frank looked at him after another pause. "I've been wondering… when are you going to head back to your job?"

"You're asking that now?"

"It's a fair question, Red." Frank shrugged before he continued. "I know the government issued a rent hold for a couple months till they get sorted out from the aftermath, but we still need food on the table." 

From the way Frank spoke to him, Matt wanted to snap at him and ignore what he was trying to say. As much as Matt had thought about going back to his day job, the idea of him stepping foot into the vacant offices of Nelson, Murdock & Page haunted him. He _couldn’t_ go back. He could never go back. There was no point in trying to run a law firm where your partners were dead and all that was left was only Murdock. Matt didn't want to go through the memory of that day again, so he had to stay away from the law firm office. It was always so fresh and painful in his mind. Even in his nightmares, the sound of their heartbeats fading away and the screams of the outside world still choked him. 

He’d cut off any reminders of Foggy and Karen completely. Some of the Nelsons survived—Foggy's mother and his brother, Theo—but why even bother going to their doorstep? Why inflict more pain when they had already dealt with more loss? Matt didn't want to do that. It wasn't fair. It was best that he also stayed dead in a way of sparing them the memory, but Matt knew he was being selfish. He was only saving himself from the pain because he was too much of a _coward_ to go back and try to move on like everyone else—

"Red? Hey! I'm still talking to you." 

The sudden, tumultuous sound of Frank's voice dragged him out of his mind. Matt sat up straight in his seat while the house surrounded him again, as if it had tried to shield him from the past. He shook his head again. 

"It's not worth it anymore—the law firm. I'll find another job under a new alias." 

"What? Why the hell would you do that?" 

"Everyone thinks Matthew Murdock is dead, Frank," Matt said through gritted teeth. "I haven't gotten a single call or email from any potential clients, and no one had seen me since… that day. It's not worth it anymore. I'll just… find a new job and use another name." 

Now, Frank was the one who scoffed at him. "You're serious? You're just going to throw away your identity like that? Where the hell are you going to find a fake ID and forged papers, huh?" 

Matt didn't answer him. He stayed quiet and only gave him a shrug in return. 

Before Matt decided to break the silence with another excuse, Frank gave out an annoyed groan. "Alright fine, you wanna stop being Matthew Murdock legally? So be it. I shouldn't be judging anyway; I'll see if David has any contacts on making fake IDs and whatever."

Matt frowned. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"Consider it me doing you a solid," Frank replied, the slight irritation still present in his tone. "Besides, at least one of us has a job that can help us survive."

That got Matt to face him.

"Where do you work?"

"Just some regular construction site; ever since the aftermath, there's been a surge for open construction worker spots and I decided to take that opportunity." Frank sighed softly. "It'll be enough until we get you something, so start coming up with a new name, altar boy." 

With that, Frank went back to the garage so that he wouldn't have to stick around to hear whatever Matt had to say, as usual. Matt was surprised with how cooperative Frank was around him. Although, he did have a point to not judge him. Frank had his name changed to Pete Castiglione to hide himself from the public; of course he would allow Matt to go off on a tangent and change his identity. It still made him curious as to why Frank didn't argue with him either way. 

Maybe they both wanted to keep the temporary peace that they had with their team work. Or maybe Frank just didn't want to deal with Matt's complaining. 

Whatever the answer was, Matt was just glad the tiny dispute was settled. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Matt didn't expect himself to lose track of time so quickly. It was almost a month or so later. The revelation came through when he dragged an injured Punisher late at night into a house that he already became so familiar with. 

Their leads from before made them obstacles for the uprising gangs. However, there were some lingering members that had relations with the Dogs of Hell and Kitchen Irish. Matt recognized their handiwork in the numerous petty crimes against the city. 

Despite that, the idea of infiltrating a building filled with them wasn't exactly how he expected the plan to go through. Simple recon, Frank said. It would’ve gone that way too—until one of the head honchos spoke up with plans of blowing up the main section of a neighborhood. 

  
  


_"This will draw them out,"_ they had said, almost in desperation. _"This will get them to piss off!"_

For a moment, Matt suspected that they were referring to Daredevil and Punisher. 

But then they jumped down to stop them, and the two gangs were startled from the sudden appearance. He managed to hear a quiet _"Why are they here?"_ before both sides unleashed hell. 

Matt became a part of the present again when he set Frank on the couch and went to find the first aid kit in the bathroom. "Keep pressing on that wound, Frank," he reminded him.

"Bastard was good with a knife," Frank growled as he took his vest and shirt off. "Got me right under the vest." 

"They knew where to strike," Matt agreed, the smell of antiseptic became familiar again after he placed the kit on the table. He started to clean around the gash that marked Frank’s shoulder. "If you were more careful, then you would have noticed him approaching you there."

"Don't start, Red," Frank added. He had his breathing steady as Matt got to work on the wound. "You still don't have a helmet for your shit outfit." 

"And I hope you remember that you don't wear a helmet either."

"At least I brought a gun to a _gun fight_." 

"But not a knife," Matt sneered. 

"You think you're so funny huh?" Frank asked before he winced at the needle going through a sensitive nerve. There it was again. A trade of banter here and there that became a part of the routine. It was quite possibly the only source of entertainment the two of them had.

Matt couldn't hide the smirk on his face. "Probably; I think you've said that to me before."

"Yeah, cause you're an asshole."

"Look who's talking." 

"Whatever you say, _Jonathan_."

Matt paused for a moment before he finished patching Frank up. Of course he would use the new alias just to get a rise out of him. Last week, the contact that Frank had found in Micro's files had led him to a man who created fake IDs in Hell's Kitchen. He hadn’t protested too much when the Punisher came to his door with the demand to see him. Frank had offered protection for both him and his son, who lost his mother during the aftermath. The same went for the contact Frank knew that forged fake documents and files, who’d only wanted to make a living after their partner had disappeared as well. Thanks to them, Matt could now work bail bonds services or take a few side jobs as well. It gave him a reminder of how Matt had obtained the red suit before, when he offered protection for Melvin Potter and Betsy. But he’d buried that memory long ago, along with many others from the past. 

Jonathan Grace was his new name. 

A simple, blind bail bondsman that no one paid attention to. 

Which was exactly what Matt wanted.

  
  


"Rest up so that you won't pull the stitches. I won't fix them if you do." Matt said, making sure he didn't miss anything. From what he could tell, Frank only had a few bruises and some minor cuts, which were already taken care of. 

"Come on, Red, don't give me that; I know some asshole gave you a gash on your arm," Frank sat up, grabbing the kit from the table. "Your turn." 

Matt had planned on going to the bathroom to fix himself from there, but apparently Frank wanted to return the favor. “Don’t worry about it, just rest up.”  
  
“No, just sit down, Red. Christ, it’ll only take a few minutes.”  
  
So much for backing down.  
  
Matt didn’t want to start up another argument with the other man, so he sat down and kept quiet while he folded up the arm sleeve for Frank to inspect. He could feel the couch shift as Frank cleaned around the gash. It almost became another comfortable moment of silence between them, until Frank started another conversation. “Good thing only a few of them had guns. You still need to find something to protect the rest of your body.”  
  
There he went again about the armor protection. “I can't wear the red suit again.”  
  
“Why the hell not? Now is a good time to bring that back, Red. These gangs are rising up and joining together, one by one. One day they’re the Hellhounds, next day they’re Hell’s Angels, then they're the Undertakers—they’re constantly changing each time and stocking up with more guns than before.”  
  
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re fighting _us,_ ” Matt pressed. He felt the sting on his cut. “Remember earlier how they weren’t trying to drag us out? They were talking about someone else. Probably another gang—"  
  
“Yeah, another gang that will cause more chaos,” Frank interrupted him as he threaded the needle through a particularly painful flap of skin. “Another gang that will bring more trouble than before and hurt more people. How are you going to protect this city without any proper armor? It isn’t smart looking for a death wish.”  
  
Matt sighed. “We’ll figure something out; the red suit… it won’t work for me anymore because it suffered too much damage. It's practically falling apart, and I don’t even know if the man who made it is still around to fix it.”

  
“Then we find someone else. You don’t have an excuse now since we’ve hit the jackpot of contacts thanks to Lieberman.”

  
  


Whatever.

  
  


Matt got up from his spot and went to the kitchen, ignoring the rest of what Frank said. As much as he knew the ex-marine was right about finding armor, there was still so much to investigate on the uprising gangs. It didn’t make things any better when there was a voice that was consistently nagging in his head. It told him that there was something else going on. Something bigger than what was happening on the outside. Tonight proved it when the criminals they encountered were surprised from their drop-in and fought back with a sloppiness Matt couldn’t ignore. They needed to be more careful when it came to the missions, and for now, recon was the only thing they had in getting answers. They couldn’t afford to take any more risks than the ones they already had. 

  
The liquor cabinet was still stocked with bottles brought by both Matt and Frank, along with the remaining wine bottles and whiskeys that the Liebermans left behind. He grabbed one of the whiskey bottles without bothering on knowing which one it was and poured himself a drink. “Oh, you’re drinking now, huh?” Frank questioned as he got up from the couch and walked over to where he was. “Didn’t realize you were gonna drown yourself in alcohol again.”  
  
“Why do you care? It’s not even the one you bought recently." Matt ignored Frank’s stare as he took a seat at the dinner table. Ever since the start of their collaboration, there was always a chance for Frank to criticize his drinking habits. At this point, Matt would assume that Frank would understand. The aftermath left everyone in a state of grief. Even though drinking away the pain was completely frowned upon—especially with the issues of addiction—why would it matter now? 

“You ever think that maybe you’re being greedy?” Frank asked casually when he grabbed a glass from the sink and sat across Matt at the kitchen table. “Don’t want you to develop alcoholism by yourself during this time. It wouldn’t be the smartest thing you do. Well, _one_ of the least smartest things you’ve done.” 

“Oh, Punisher’s got jokes now?” Matt chuckled begrudgingly as he poured himself a drink first. He then pushed the bottle towards Frank. “I didn’t know you kept a list of all my mistakes.”

“Yeah, I can print it out in braille for you, and you can read all about it.”  
  
“Haha, you’re _so_ funny,” Matt replied back with an extremely monotone voice, sarcasm laced at the edge before he muttered “ _A_ _sshole_ ” underneath his breath. 

  
“Sorry, could you speak up, Red?” Frank placed a hand against the side of his ear as he leaned over slightly. “Not everyone’s got super hearing like you.” He poured himself a drink and pushed the bottle back to the middle of the table.  
  
  
Why the hell did he agree to work with this man?

  
  


The simple savoring of liquor became a small game of who could down it quicker. It was clear to Matt that Frank had the same idea of getting intoxicated at the late hour. Despite having to come back from a mess of a recon mission, they took any chance to avoid that conversation. Especially if alcohol was involved. It was almost pleasant to have this sort of comfort, even if it wasn't healthy. Matt would rather drink than smoke by a long shot. The idea of him and Frank being chain smokers already made the pit of his stomach churn, so that was completely out of the question. Besides, nicotine didn't have the same soothing effect that alcohol had whenever it sank into his bloodstream and gave him a sense of escapism. It was the closest thing to it, anyway. 

  
  


"You know… eventually it's going to come back and bite you." 

The brief comfort ended swiftly when Frank spoke up again. This time, Matt wasn't sure how long they had been drinking. There was that familiar sense of vertigo, and the bottle felt lighter than before, which meant that they managed to almost finish it. Almost. 

"What will?" Matt asked. 

"This shit here," Frank tapped at the bottle with his finger. "You brought something strong. Something to numb it all, huh." 

"If this is your way of saying my taste is shit, might as well be up front about it."

"It's not; you don't think I haven't noticed how much you've been drinking lately? I wasn't kidding about the alcoholism, Red. It's not a good time to develop that," Frank said. 

"And you decide to tell me this now while we're both drunk? What perfect timing you have," Matt huffed as he downed the last of his drink. "I've told you this before: I don't need lecturing."

"Well excuse me for trying to look after your health. Someone's gotta do it, and you're not too keen on taking care of yourself."

"Don't be a hypocrite, Frank. You're indulging in the same vices as I am." 

"At least I know when to stop." 

"Oh, do you?" Matt snapped at him. "You know when to stop? _Please._ You almost made me forget who I was talking to."

Now there was a brief pause before he heard Frank drew in a breath. "Not trying to fight you, Red. I'm only giving you some friendly advice." 

Another bitter laugh escaped Matt as he placed the empty glass down. "Friendly…"

"At this point, I'm the closest thing to a friend you got." 

  
  


_Sure..._

  
  


"If you wanna pick a fight, try waiting till you're sober." Matt heard the other man get up from his seat, leaving the table to grab… one of the radios? Before Matt could say anything, the abrupt sound of static tuning came in again, which surprised him slightly. 

"Right now, I'm not itching for a fight. I want to listen to some music," Frank said.

For a moment, Matt thought he had tuned out Frank and the radio. The alcohol continued to swim in his head for the time being until the sudden beat of 80's music began to play. A melody so familiar came through when he heard the rhythm singing to him. 

"Oh shit, didn't think they'd play Hall and Oates at this time," Frank laughed. The music made him melt in his seat, as if the earlier challenges from Matt had washed away so easily. "Of course they would play 'Out of Touch.'" 

It's been years since Matt heard this song, let alone Hall and Oates in general. The distant memories of his old college days where Foggy would sing 'Maneater' loudly in their dorm, using a hairbrush as a pretend microphone brought another fresh wave of sorrow. Never would he have thought that something as cruel as the aftermath would happen, especially to his best friend and so many others. They were gone. Dead. 

Christ, he needed another drink, but the empty weight of the bottle reminded him that Frank had killed it merely a few minutes ago. Well, at least he had enough in his system to ease him to sleep later. Matt was glad the other man was too busy enjoying the music to notice his poor attempt to drown the pain. For now, Matt decided to let go—just for a minute—and enjoy the music. At least, he tried to. 

One thing that still boggled his mind was Frank's music choices. Matt never suspected him to be into pop rhythm, blues rock, and new wave. He would’ve thought the ex-marine was more of a country rock or heavy metal kind of guy, but the gentle cadence of one of Fleetwood Mac's songs proved him wrong. Maybe he should stop judging people, especially before he got to experience different sides to them firsthand. 

  
  


"You dance, Red?" 

Matt tilted his head slightly. "Yes, but uh, last time I danced was back in college." He missed those days. 

"You wanna dance? Get your head out of whatever dark shithole you keep dragging it to?" 

Did Frank Castle seriously just offer him a dance? Matt was about to question the motive behind it until he remembered that they did just spend the past hour binge drinking. They were drunk and up for anything at this point. Well, Frank was up for anything. 

Matt simply wanted to sleep. 

"Maybe another time," Matt replied before he added: "I don't want to swing around with your whiskey breath in my face." 

Another expectation shot down when Frank started to laugh again instead of shooting another insult. Damn, maybe Matt wasn't used to this. 

"Sure, I'll remember that when the time comes," Matt can tell Frank was grinning ear to ear. "Just you wait."

He doubted that. 

Especially when he could smell the alcohol that had already stained his tongue.

Frank wouldn’t remember. 

_Hopefully he wouldn’t._

All Matt could do was enjoy the music and the steady hums that came from Frank. As the alcohol swam in his bloodstream and clouded his head, Matt thought of simpler times. Before it all went wrong. 

  
  


It was nice to pretend for one night.   
  



	4. Familiar Wounds and Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied suicide on minor character tw
> 
> Alright, this will be mentioned frequently throughout the story as it's part of the first and second arc of the plot. I won't be writing extremely explicit details of it and it will mostly stay in the background. I'm giving the heads up now so that you guys can be aware as the story progresses. Again, please let me know if there's anything I should tag. 
> 
> The character tags will update as new characters come in. 
> 
> Many thanks to GnomeWithALaptop and Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

  
IV

  
  
  


  
  
  
Only a couple of hours went by and they still got nothing. 

  
  


Downtown kept itself quiet when there were little to no cars or people around. Tonight was supposed to be only a recon mission, but just in case something went out of hand with the gangs they investigated, they had their preparations set. Increased activity had been reported in downtown Manhattan a few days ago, which gave the Punisher and Daredevil an opportunity to check it out. 

So far, the deafening silence kept them company as Red continued to listen to the outside. Frank kept himself focused on anything that sounded unusual. All he could do was wait patiently in the driver seat and occasionally make side glances over at the other vigilante. A part of him wondered if Red would ever bring up their little "quarrel" from a few nights ago. The idea of wanting to make sure the other bastard kept his head straight and out of the liquor cabinet was a job on its own. Who else would do it when the person in question wasn't willing to take care of their health? An alcoholic was the last thing Frank wanted to deal with. 

"What's the verdict, Red?" 

  
  


"Nothing unusual so far; just the regular sounds of a neighborhood," Red said as he lowered the window slightly. "If nothing turns up in the next minute or so, we might as well go out there and search for them." 

"Impatient tonight, aren't we?" Frank huffed, his eyes trying to find anything out of the ordinary within the streets. "Maybe they ran off to another location. So far, every car that'd passed by was just regular civilians." 

"Or they could've set up their meetings earlier than we expected."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean we should jump in yet. We're just doing recon, remember?"

"... Right." Red muttered, and the conversation ended there. 

Frank wasn't too thrilled about Daredevil's not-so-subtle desperation for a fight. They'd been working together for more than a month now, and from what he’d gathered from their collaboration, Red's brutality had increased dramatically ever since the aftermath. Of course, Frank couldn't blame him. Not really. Not since their whole world changed completely. Everything was different now, and people weren’t favoring vigilantes and superheroes anymore. If it meant anything, going out at night to beat down criminals was the Devil's best coping mechanism. Hell, at this point, anything could be a coping mechanism as long as there was some creativity involved. However, Frank still favored an angry, unpredictable Red over a sad alcoholic. At least then something was getting done, even if it did increase the risks.   
  


The minutes ticked by, and Frank was ready to grab his gear and step out into the night. Until Red grabbed his arm. 

"Wait… there's an SUV approaching. It's carrying something…heavy." 

Frank looked over at the streets again, waiting for said SUV to appear. They kept themselves hidden in the truck as the vehicle drove past them. The windows of the car were more opaque than transparent, and the engine barely growled, which was extremely uncommon for a larger, cheap-looking vehicle. After a few minutes of standstill, Frank started the engine. "Keep your focus on them."

They followed the SUV towards one of the parking garages in a lower district. Frank made sure to keep a large distance between them and the vehicle as it entered the garage. 

"They're up at the top floor. I hear a few heavy footsteps getting out of the car," Red informed him, already trying to get out of the passenger seat. God, not this shit again. This was definitely a habit Red needed to break soon. 

Frank had to hold him back by placing a hand on his shoulder as he drove to the building across the garage. "Not yet, damn it! We need to be cautious about this, remember? If we jump in now, our cover will be blown." It took a lot of willpower for Frank to not grab Red by the collar of his shirt and throw him in the back. He wasn't about to let Red's impatient ass ruin the mission. Once he’d parked the car behind the building, Frank released his grip on the Devil. It had almost felt like he’d been holding back an angry dog that was ready to sink its teeth into whatever skin it could find. 

With no time to waste, the two of them exited the car and climbed up the fire escape stairs on the side of the building. They had to get to a vantage point on the rooftop with enough space for Red to tune in and for Frank to set up the sniper rifle. With the scope ready to go, Frank focused on the vehicle parked and the people that gathered next to it. There were three of them who wore dark gray biker suits, while one of them held a large briefcase. Well, he suspected they were biker suits. Something about them almost didn't fit the description, especially with the odd circular outlines that were across each biker’s chest. They stood awfully still while they spoke to each other. "Can you tell me what they're saying?" he asked Red. 

Red nodded. "They're just waiting for someone to arrive. One of them was asking if they got the right address." 

Frank expected another vehicle to appear, or at least, someone to appear from behind to surprise their guests. More minutes passed by with Frank's focus still on the scope. The three suspects continued to stand completely still as they waited for whoever the hell was supposed to show up. It was borderline creepy the way they stood there, motionless with barely any expression. 

Before Frank could ask Red if they mentioned any indication on time, something began to flicker next to the car. At first, Frank thought it might have been something metallic reflecting over it from one of the buildings. Instead, the flickering began to manifest itself into… a portal. 

An actual portal.  
  
  
A circular, almost three-dimensional opening with an eerie glow. The other side was almost obscured with a blue fog, but Frank could tell that it was another location. 

The portal opened up, and soon enough, another figure stepped out of it, who also wore the same get-up as the others. With them, they carried two briefcases, one in each hand. They nodded over at the other three and began to pass the two briefcases to one of them in exchange for the other. Frank was shocked out of his mind to see this happen, but then he remembered the fact that oh yeah, people have _powers_ in this world. It was considered the norm at this point. 

"There… there's another heartbeat. It just… appeared out of nowhere."  
  


_Oh_. 

That's right.  
  


"The person they were waiting on just… teleported to where they're at," Frank informed him, still watching the scope. "I'm not even kidding, they actually came out of a portal. They brought in two other briefcases and just got the one the other three had earlier. Do you think you can figure out what's in them?" 

"No… not really; they have them sealed with something."

Frank was about to ask Red if there were any other details he could pick up when the stranger opened another portal and disappeared. Whatever was in that first briefcase was now considered a mystery, and the other three carried the two new ones into the SUV.

"They're driving to the third floor," Red hissed. "They're about to leave."

Frank began to dismantle the rifle. "Alright, then we pack up and head back to the car. You tell me where they're going to—oh for _fuck's_ sake!" 

  
  


Too late. 

  
  


The second Red had mentioned the suspects leaving, the idiot had decided to parkour his way off the building and towards the garage. Frank packed up the rifle and followed the vigilante with hurried steps. _Damn it, Red!_ They could've easily followed them outside the garage and maintained a different position. Did he seriously just throw away the entire point of the mission?! Every time Red pulled this shit, Frank had to shut down the urge to shoot him.

Frank tossed the rifle case into the back of the truck and jumped in to start the vehicle. He decided to rush over across the garage with the idea that Red might have stopped the three in their tracks. The abrupt sound of tire screeches came through, which gave Frank some sort of hope. 

_Third floor,_ he reminded himself. Head to the third floor and they'll be there. 

Frank parked the car outside the garage and ran inside, climbing up more sets of stairs. There was shouting and grunting right above his head, and he didn't want to waste any more time just to create a dramatic entrance. 

By the time he entered the third floor, Red had already cornered two of them against the SUV and was swinging his fists at them while he kept his footing steady. One of them held a knife and desperately tried to get a few cuts on him. The third one, on the other hand, had pulled out a gun and aimed it for Red. Frank shot the third culprit at his shoulder to drop the gun. He shot at one of the kneecaps for good measure and the bastard cried in pain while Frank kicked the gun away from them.   
  


Across from him, Red thrashed against a scumbag that had a hold on him. Before Frank was able to do anything, Red turned around to slam his head against the bastard's forehead before he grabbed the second guy. In one swift motion, he pinned them against the car and bared his teeth. 

"Who do you work for and what's in the briefcase?" he demanded viciously. The other guy didn't say a word, shaking his head furiously as he tried to fight back. Red pulled them away from the car and shoved them to the ground before he sent more kicks to their sides.

The scumbag stayed silent despite their bleeding mouth and fractured ribs. He gave nothing but a scowl towards the masked vigilante, which only angered Red even more. He tried to crawl away from him, having to reach a corner until Frank approached the scene with his gun pointed at him. "Start talking, asshole." 

" _Frank…_ " Oh great, a warning. Red should know by now that the ex-marine was following his rules. His compromise. 

"Tell us what's in the briefcase or I'll put a bullet between your eyes," Frank threatened, certain that Red could pick up his bluff. As much as he wanted these three to be dead, information was better when it came out of a living person. And as he kept his gaze on the suspect, Frank noticed that their eyes were completely hazed over. Bloodshot. Almost sick looking. He wasn't sure if it was the glare of city lights or reflections of the apartment buildings behind him, but Frank could've sworn he saw a rim of yellow around the irises. 

"Wait… Frank, the other one—"

He turned around in time for the one with bloody kneecaps to hold something up in his hands. It took Frank a split second to realize it was a detonator, and then the bastard quickly pressed the button.

  
  


_"Move!"_

  
  


Frank couldn't process the rest of it as he was pulled away by Red. The car was set off into a multitude of explosions that broke off the pillars within the garage floors. Without their support, the building wasn't going to stay intact, and it didn't take long for pieces of concrete to rain down on them. In that instant, Frank turned around to shield Red from the debris that flew from all sides. They slammed against the wall of the garage, Frank on the receiving end and his sides screamed in pain. The ringing in his ears didn't help ease the dizziness that came afterwards. It created a fog in his head, and the pain only got worse, scattering his senses into places that didn't make sense. Everything happened either too quickly or too slowly, and Frank couldn't grasp anything to bring him back to full consciousness. _Crap,_ not now. This wasn’t the best time to start passing out. Not when pieces of concrete were falling in different directions and each could do something far worse than a few scrapes. 

  
  


_"Frank!"_

  
  


There was a shout that woke him up for a moment, but Frank held his focus on the one culprit who had dragged himself towards the fire. Before the black spots began to cloud his vision, he managed to see the other two dead from the explosion, while the one they interrogated had willingly pulled himself into the fire to burn alongside the other two. Frank wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him, but one minute he saw a body burn, and then the next, he blacked out. 

Consciousness clawed its way back to the surface temporarily. Frank was still out of it, feeling nothing but pain when he saw the black spots at the corner of his eyes again. From what he could tell, he was back in the truck again, and it was moving.

Everything came through here and there. Some sounds filtered in, but the world was nothing but a blur. " _Hurry… the bleeding…!_ " Careful hands hovered over the wounds, and Frank recognized it as Red's voice, panicked and rough. Why did Red sound like that? He didn't know what the hell was going on, but soon enough, unconsciousness began to call out for him. Frank couldn't say a word by the time his eyes went shut and everything droned out again. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The first thing that Frank noticed when he woke up was the sound of items shuffling next to him. 

Slowly, words were beginning to make sense again.

  
  


"I had hoped there were some tissues in here, but I guess the Liebermans didn't restock. Maybe check downstairs?" 

That was Red speaking, who was apparently shuffling around and opening things. Footsteps echoed from across the room until they disappeared down the stairs. Frank took his time to wake up and allow everything to process slowly. He noticed the soreness at his sides, along with the dull pain around his waist. A groan escaped him when he tried to sit up, and Frank felt his body protest as he did so. Christ, he was in bad shape. 

Frank's vision cleared away the blur when he finally got his head together. Next to him stood Red, who had turned his head to face him with an expression of… something. 

Despite the bandages around his head and arms and the bruises that marked his face, Red looked soft. Somehow. 

"Easy, Frank," Red said as he came over to help him sit up. The other man kept his hands steady and away from the bandages as he did so. After that, Red handed him a cylinder flask, and Frank drank it dutifully. 

"Red…" Frank started before he cleared his throat. The grogginess of sleep still had a vice grip on him and Frank took his time to speak. "What the hell…how did we get back here?" A good look around told him that they were back in the Lieberman household. This was probably the main bedroom—even after two months of operating out of the basement, he'd never really found the time to come up here. Red mentioned something about them earlier. 

"I managed to get you out of the garage before the wall collapsed," Red told him as he sat down at the lone chair near the nightstand. "From there I… didn't know what to do, but some help came through eventually." 

Help?

  
  


_Wait…_

  
  


Someone had driven the truck.

  
  


It couldn't have been Red for very obvious reasons—he’d been a bit too busy stopping the bleeding from Frank’s side for that. Did someone just so happen to come across Daredevil and an unconscious Punisher and decide to drop everything just to help them? Who the hell would do that?

The footsteps came back up the stairs. 

"I found some in the kitchen. Bloody noses are a pain in my ass." 

  
  


_Holy shit…_

  
  


At the doorway stood Curtis Hoyle, who held a first aid kit and a couple of tissues. One of them he discarded casually at the trash bin nearby. A smile crossed his face when he noticed Frank. 

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Pete Castiglione, back from the dead! Better stay that way now that I patched you up." 

Curtis was alive. 

He wasn’t one of the fallen.

He was _alive._

  
  


"Curt…" Frank whispered, unable to keep his eyes off him as Curtis walked over. Red laid a cautious hand on his shoulder. It wasn't some sick hallucination. At least, Frank hoped it wasn't an illusion his mind had conjured up just to torment him. No, this was real. His friend was alive and well, and he had saved him from blood loss. 

"Hey Frank, easy there," Curtis whispered as he placed his hand on Frank's shoulder to steady him. "It's good to see you alive and kickin'." 

"Curt… you've been alive this whole time?" As always, Frank wanted answers. Heartwarming reunions weren't exactly his specialty, but Curtis would know that he was happy to see him too. 

A sigh escaped Curtis as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I wasn't one of the souls that got dusted. And I know you got a lot of questions right now…"

Ain't that the truth.

"... But you don't need to focus on that right now. Just rest up as much as you can and we can get talking." 

"No, come on Curtis," Frank braced himself slightly. "I need to know: how did you come across Red and I?"

"Red?" Curtis said in amusement. He looked at the man in question. "He calls you 'Red'?"

"It's just a nickname. I used to wear a red suit, remember?" 

"Right… well, let's just say I came in at the right moment at the right time. You and Jonathan here were _very_ lucky that you pulled off your little stunt mission near my apartment complex." 

Frank had almost forgotten about the apartment complexes near the garage, especially when his memory solely focused on the explosion of the cars.   
  


"I was heading back to my place when I heard the explosions go off," Curtis continued. "At first I wanted to call 911… but then I saw Daredevil carrying your unconscious ass out of the building." 

"Curtis caught me by surprise at first, but he told the truth when he said he was a friend of yours," Red pitched in. "You were bleeding out badly. I had to trust him to get us out of there before it all went to hell." 

"Some partner you got here, Frank. A real keeper."

  
  


The story recollection made Frank think quietly, with information that processed in his mind slowly. Red had started to use his terminology. When anything 'goes to hell,' it can range from the police arriving, to one of them suffering from major injuries. The tease Curtis slipped into his tone was ignored completely when Frank continued to ask more questions. 

Questions about how Curtis escaped his house. How it led up to the apartment he was in now. What happened to his phone, his way of contact, everything. Even when Curtis tried to keep up with the questions with patience, there was always sorrow in his eyes. Recounting that day when so much had happened wasn't a fond memory to keep. Frank had seen Red drown himself in alcohol to try and get an ounce of sleep because of it. At least with Curtis' explanation, there was some relief that came through. During the aftermath, Curtis managed to get out of his home unscathed with a few essentials he saved from the destruction. Ever since then, he had been living with his girlfriend for the past month or so. (More than a month, now that he thought about it.). At least he wasn't alone. 

"It wasn't easy to adjust, but I had to accept the facts and move on," Curtis said. "My phone provider had to do a lot of changes and I lost your number. I was hoping you weren't one of the fallen souls."

Frank nodded. "Well, here I am." 

"Here you are," Curtis said with another smile. "I missed you, asshole, and I'm glad you're alive. Trust me, I would hug you, but your injuries wouldn't like that." 

"Yeah yeah, I missed you too. No need for the hug." Frank chuckled softly and took a quick glance over at Red. The other man casually sat in the chair and kept quiet throughout the entire conversation. Frank assumed this was Red's way of giving them the time for their reunion. It would've been a bit awkward if Red got up and left, especially when Frank had questions for him too. "Thank you, Curtis. For helping us out and everything." 

"Glad I could help. Oh, I left some painkillers near the nightstand on your side. I know you stone-cold vigilantes don't like taking them, but at least do me the favor." 

Painkillers didn't sound like a bad idea. 

"Do you want a ride back to your place, Jonathan?" That was still a name Frank had to get used to. 

Red shifted in his seat slightly. "Uh, I think I'll be fine here. I'll go home tomorrow." 

"Alright, well, offer is up until then. Take care of yourselves." 

Curtis left the house after Red had told him the pass code. In exchange, Curtis offered his new phone number for the both of them to keep while Frank took the painkillers. Throughout the earlier conversation before, Frank had mostly kept the topic on what Curtis had been up to ever since the aftermath. There were a few times where he and Red had filled in the blanks of last night. He suspected that throughout his period of unconsciousness, Red must've given Curtis enough information about himself. He’d gotten him to say his alias. Not only that, Curtis was smart. There was no doubt that at one point, after Red had taken off his mask, Curtis had caught sight of his eyes. 

Now Frank wished that he’d been awake during that time to catch the interesting revelation. 

"You told him your new name." 

Red nodded as he got up. "I did." 

Frank felt some sort of tension when Red spoke. "You can trust Curtis to keep a secret. He's more loyal than any other person I know." 

"It's more of the other way around," Red said. "I had to get Curtis to trust me first before we got back. He thought I was kidnapping you at first until I told him I was helping you out of there."

"Good thing you smooth-talked your way out of getting your ass kicked." 

"He was very convincing. I had to trust him just as much as he had to trust me."

Before Frank could say anything else, Red cleared his throat. "Back there, in the garage, you shielded me from the blast." 

"I had too; we both could've been bleeding out," Frank responded. "You did manage to pull me away from the explosion so… I gotta give you credit as well." 

"Well, I owe you one so… thank you."   
  


Wow.

Red had actually thanked him.  
  


Now Frank was seriously considering if the drugs were kicking in or not. 

He gave out a soft hum. "Don't worry about it. Besides, we both owe Curtis one, that's for sure."

Right after his reply, a small chuckle escaped Red.  
  


Genuine laughter.   
  


It was so short and it sounded nothing like the bitter excuses Red had passed off as laughter before. He actually sounded like he wasn't an asshole for once. "I'll keep that in mind,” he said. “I'm going to head downstairs and listen to the scanner."

"You're not going home?" Frank asked. "Thought you were going to call a taxi or something just to be alone." That's what he’d initially suspected when Red declined Curtis' offer. It was one way to get out of a conversation after all.

Instead, Red shook his head at that. "No, I wasn't lying when I said I'll stay here for the night. I’d rather sleep everything off before heading back, it's already too late."   
  


Now Red was making rational decisions.   
  


Where the hell was that during the mission, Frank wondered.   
  


"You need to rest up too, you know. We both got pretty pummeled by the debris and I bet you got a rib to nurse."

Red scoffed and Frank could've sworn he saw him roll his eyes. "I'm fine; you should be worrying about your own injuries rather than mine." And with that, Red walked out of the room, already making his way to the staircase.   
  


"Be glad you got someone to watch your back!" Frank called out before he leaned back into the pillows. Red was back to being an asshole again, and the moment of peace had ended quickly. Now all that was left were the boundaries again. 

  
  


At least Frank could get some sleep. 


	5. Within the Moon's Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explosions and implied suicide on minor characters tw
> 
> Classes just started for me and the beta readers so the weekly updates might slow down a bit.
> 
> Many thanks to GnomeWithALaptop and Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

  
V

  
  


  
  


The following week proved itself to be another dead end. 

  
  


Police reports of the garage explosion in lower Manhattan said the cops had very little evidence and no leads. Investigators chalked it up as another case of gang-on-gang violence, but Matt knew that wasn't the truth. 

Far from it. 

The mission left Matt to ponder to himself quietly on how and why it ended the way it did. The transfer of suitcases, the interrogation, and the explosions that followed didn't make any sense to him. The biggest wrench during recon was the person that had the ability to create portals. He knew about super-powered beings obviously, but he didn't expect one of them to be a part of a gang. Unless, what he and Frank were dealing with was far beyond something as a simple gang.   
  


After Frank had finished sleeping off the medication, Matt decided to wait in the living room. During that time, Frank had given him his insights on what he saw: 

_"One of them crawled towards the fire, Red. They didn't give a shit, they just went into it and burned out. No scream. Nothing."_

Matt recalled that moment happening when he and Frank were on the ground. He had listened to the other two suspects, hoping that they had survived the explosion. Instead, he’d gotten a frantic heartbeat and the sound of nails clawing on concrete before the heat overwhelmed their skin. 

Being burned to death was something that Matt would never want to happen to _anyone_. No one deserved a fate like that. So for someone to willingly drag themselves into the fire just to spare themselves from spilling information? It sounded too familiar. Almost like another case of Wilson Fisk calling the shots. Except, it couldn't be the Kingpin. 

Not this time. 

Not when he was another soul that became a part of the fallen.

Everything circled back to the beginning and Matt wanted to move past it. He wanted answers, and the only answers he'd gotten were the same ones from before, now with a different conclusion. 

There were reports of these suspects being apprehended and caught by the police. Cases of weapon smuggling and robberies had been confirmed and when they were caught, they ended their lives the second they were interrogated. It sounded too familiar to the garage explosion mission. There were even a few rumors of some of these suspects displaying different types of abilities beyond human capacity. That wouldn't be surprising in the slightest if that were the case. 

The vitriolic anger that rose from the public began to make appearances through radio stations and tabloids much more frequently than before. No one could blame them for this rage. However, Matt wondered if there was anyone out there that still hung onto that thin thread of hope that there were still people out there trying to make a difference. He could already hear Foggy reading through a newspaper and immediately criticizing the public. He'd probably refer to Matt as a hero and tease the living hell out of him too. But Foggy was gone, and Matt could only reminisce on the fond memories for a minute or so before his own mind was clouded with numb emptiness again. All he could do was keep them buried and focus on the present. Back to the mission and the unearthing of evidence. Now that the new police reports had been released, Matt had at least something to work with. 

Frank picked him up in the late afternoon for another briefing. He informed him earlier that he found a couple of leads thanks to Curtis.

"Curtis has noticed a few people go missing around his block as well," Frank told him once they were a few minutes down the road. "He gave us a few locations where it's been reported, so at least we got more intel to work with."

"How is he holding up?" Matt decided to ask when curiosity struck. From the mission alone, Matt found himself trusting Curtis completely, despite the fact that he’d had no choice in the matter. It took some convincing from his end for a sort of truce to be shared and for Curtis to _not_ call the police on them. He can still remember the moment Curtis decided to become a part of their escape.   
  


_"God damn it, Frank. You got both the Devil and me dealing with your bullshit in one night."_

  
  


"He's been doing alright; gave a few vague statements to the police when they investigated his building and played the oblivious citizen card on 'em," Frank answered. "He did his best to not give us away."

"That's good." 

The drive to the Lieberman household was quiet by the time they reached the neighborhood. The only sound that filled the air was the radio that was still stuck on the 80's music station. At this point, they'd both gotten used to it. The house welcomed them with its comfortable presence, and Matt realized he had gotten used to that as well. His apartment only served as a place of his own solitude, complete with awful reminders of the past. Rent wouldn't be an issue for another few months or so, as there were still people trying to readjust, but the economy was slowly trying to pick itself up again.

When another set of hours went through with Frank going over reports and Matt listening to the scanner, a groan finally interrupted the silence. "What's wrong?" Matt asked quickly as he tried to keep his focus more on the scanner than Frank. 

"These reports are similar with the locations of the gangs. They're scattered within different parts of the city."

"Alright, then we will investigate there; I don't understand what the problem is here."

"The problem is that they're not specific on which gangs they’re talking about," Frank responded, going through each file again. Matt suspected he was marking the locations with a pen due to the smell of ink, and the squeaky-rough scratch of pen on glossy paper confirmed it. Frank was right about them being scattered. And if that were some kind of map he was working with, then Matt's guess was that these gangs had created a pattern of their own. "It's not the Undertakers, or Hell's Angels, or whoever the hell is out there now,” Frank said. “They're downtown and up north and in the westside as well. It’s a goddamn mess." 

Matt could feel Frank's frustration radiating from him as he continued to speak. In all honesty, Matt felt the same way. It was harder to keep track of any of these groups when they were all banded together as if they were the same gang. 

  
  


Unless…

  
  


"Frank, remember what you told me last week about the garage explosion?" Matt began as he turned the scanner's volume down. "You mentioned something about the people back in the garage there that they wore different outfits than the other gangs we’ve dealt with."

"I told you that they were like biker outfits with some weird looking designs," Frank said. Earlier, Frank had tried to describe them to him, along with how something about the outfits stood out a bit. The other gang members they've dealt with have had the typical studded leather jacket attire with the smell of motor oil and rust that stained them. Each one had a different variation, but the similarities were unavoidable. Matt originally suspected that the people from the garage explosion were the Undertakers due to the reports mentioning their gray outfits. However, the Undertakers had the common scent of motor oil and gunpowder under leather just like the other gangs they've encountered. When he interrogated the suspect with the briefcase, Matt smelled white phosphorus on their suits instead of oil. Not only that, their outfits felt more similar to kevlar and spandex than to leather. 

"Might as well say what you're thinking, Red. You've been leaving me on hold for too long," Frank dragged him away from his thoughts and back to the matter at hand. 

"They're the same gang," Matt blurted out. "The Hellhounds, Undertakers, Hell's Angels, they're all the same. I know you said they all worked in different factions of the city, but what if they are the same?"

"Why would they be the same?" 

"Think about it, why _wouldn't_ they be?" Matt got up from his seat to walk over to Frank. "How else would they confuse the police? How else would they confuse _us?_ This isn't something coincidental; this is something they’d planned from the very beginning. We've been running around in circles because we took their bait. If they spread out and pretend that they're different groups, it'll increase the illusion and get everyone to look the other way. I don't think these are four gangs going against each other. I think these are two large ones in an all out war and it's been kept hidden for too long." 

From an outside perspective, it would make sense. This whole time, they'd been playing with the same dead conclusions because the bigger issue was right over their heads. Matt knew he should've paid more attention, but the anger he had felt since the aftermath was addictive. It made him feel like nothing mattered unless his knuckles were covered in blood.   
  


Frank took a moment to process the information given, almost baffled at the new conclusion at hand. He shook his head. "That doesn't explain why people have gone missing. Why the hell would they go through all that trouble anyway? Who would be the culprit?"

"I don't know for sure, but it's possible that either one or both sides are responsible for the kidnappings from Curt’s neighborhood and from other locations. It could be a human trafficking war for all we know," Matt explained. They needed more evidence pertaining to the kidnappings, but for now, they had _something_. "Frank, we need to find more reports of the gray outfits with circular patterns. We have to break this cycle these gangs created and go another direction." 

An edging thought came through with a wild theory. From the description alone, Matt believed that this new gang could be a cult of some sort. Their behaviors fit the part, and as incredible as it sounded, it wouldn't be the first time he's dealt with one. 

Another moment went through before Frank sighed and got up from his seat. He closed a few of the file folders and stacked them neatly. "You're really onto something then, huh, Red? Even though your conclusion sounds insane."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but yeah, I think we can actually get something done."

"And here I thought this week was going to be another dead end." Frank chuckled. _You and me both_ , Matt's mind whispered. "All we need now is some miracle to come through and give us a helping hand." 

"I doubt that'll happen," Matt replied dryly before he went to the kitchen. 

"You never know, Red. Shit always happens like that," Frank shrugged as he made his way over to the radio."Also, I didn't know we were celebrating so early."

Matt stopped midway. "I'm not going to grab a beer. I was going to get water." 

Frank laughed again, a sound that Matt had started to become too familiar with alongside the house. "Finally taking care of yourself for once?" He asked before the radio sparked to life, set on the damn 80's music station as well. Hall and Oates' _Out of Touch_ began to play after the radio host finished the weather report. Why does this radio station love playing that song so much? "You connected intel and now you're drinking _water?_ That's something I haven't seen from you in a while."

"Haven't seen much from you either."

Wait, did he just make a blind joke?

"Oh, more jokes from the comedian of Hell's Kitchen, eh?" There was an audible grin from Frank's voice as he turned up the volume slightly. "Kinda hoped you had a few more when we were drinking that other night."

Shit.

He remembered.

Which meant that…

"I'm _not_ dancing with you," Matt immediately said the second he recognized Frank’s lax position and his approach towards him. 

"Come on, Red. You did say next time…"

"I was _drunk;_ we were both drunk." 

"A promise is a promise."

"Frank, we still need to go through the briefing." 

"And we should also take a break. Your point? Loosen up for once."

  
  


Why was he so damn stubborn?

  
  


"Okay, fine. I'll… dance with you and then we get back to work, deal?" Matt asked begrudgingly. Great, he was going crazy. He’d actually agreed to dance with him. And he knew for certain that Frank had a stupid smile directed towards him. 

"Deal." 

This was ridiculous. 

Matt grabbed Frank’s outstretched hand and allowed himself to be pulled over. They took turns leading in swings and moved their feet in rhythm of the music and each other's steps. "Told you this ain't so bad," Frank said as they reached the end of the song and the start of another. "It's better than drinking away our sorrows, that's for sure."

Matt sighed. "I guess you have a point there."

"'Course I do, I'm always right."

"Hmm, I don't know about that one."

"Hey, I make fair observations," Frank shrugged as he kept the dance slow and steady. "I'm pretty sure we would've been voted as prom kings with dancing like this in high school."

Alright, now that got a laugh from Matt. 

"I doubt you'd be my first choice for prom."

"Ouch, that's harsh. Not even out of pity?"

"Nope." 

When the third song ended and their dance slowed down even more, Matt opened his mouth to say something before the phone on the other end of the kitchen began to shudder against the table. It was Frank's main cellphone set on vibrate, which was louder than Matt anticipated. They both stopped in their tracks, and reality began to sink in once the spell was broken. Right, they had a mission to do. Break time was over. Frank slowly released his hold before he went over to the phone and answered. "Hello?"

"Hello? Frank?" 

Matt managed to hear a woman's voice on the other end, and Frank quietly swore under his breath before he said:

"Madani." 

  
  


Oh great, another person Frank knew. 

"Hang on, I'm putting you on speaker."

"Why?" 

"Trust me."  
  


Once Frank placed Madani on speaker, Matt could hear the exasperation in her tone. "Well, at least you didn't hang up on me, so there's that. Mind telling me who you're with? I'm assuming that's why you put me on speaker."

"He’s just an old friend of mine," Frank responded. "You can trust him." 

"... Right, well I'll be trusting you on that then," Madani said with slight annoyance. "I've been trying to reach you for the past month or so, Frank. There’s a shitstorm being made right under our noses."

"We know that; we've been tracking down a few of these gangs for weeks."

"Alright never mind, who the hell is this friend of yours? And gangs? What gangs? I'm focusing on an organization."

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Enlighten me."

Frank paused before he said: "It's Daredevil."

"... _Daredevil?_ As in The Devil of Hell's Kitchen? As in your old adversary that you fought against and that the newspaper loves to gossip about?"

"Yup, that's him alright. Red, this is CIA agent, Dinah Madani, and now we all know each other, so spill."

Madani made a loud sigh and was unapologetic about it as well. "Okay, that's not aliens-falling-out-of-the-sky weird but sure, I'll deal with the fact that you and Daredevil are buddies now."

"What organization?" Matt decided to ask as he approached the phone. "We've followed up on the leads of two gangs, and you're talking about an organization. I think we're both missing something here."

"I'm talking about an organization that's been increasing activity since the very beginning of what happened That Day," Madani explained. "While I was trying to find Frank's phone number in David Lieberman's files, Lieberman had records of a few encounters with an organization known as Advanced Idea Mechanics. A few of their members broke off from the organization from what I could tell, and most of them relocated in New York."

"Any description to match these guys?" Frank asked. 

"They typically are seen wearing yellow and green outfits, but there's no updates on them wearing anything else."

"Are there any other descriptions? Maybe ones with gray suits and strange patterns?" Matt thought it couldn't hurt to ask. 

Another pause went through before he heard Madani flip through a few papers on the other end of the line. "There's no correlations with outfits, but I do have cases where there's been suspects wearing such outfits committing suicide when they're interrogated. Does that follow up with anything?"

"It does; we encountered a group like that last week."

"So it _was_ you two that were involved with the Manhattan garage explosion," Madani muttered before she continued. "I've noticed the recent kidnappings going on as well. A majority of them Inhuman and Mutant."

Wait…

They hadn’t known that...

"There hasn't been any police reports describing who they were," Matt replied again, thinking through the logical explanations. "... Unless they didn't want to reveal that to the public."

" _Exactly_ ," Madani said. "Ever since the Avengers, the X-Men, and whoever the hell ditched the planet, who do you think is more vulnerable? Especially when the common people decided to do shit their way and discriminate against anyone that had powers? Not only that, this is exactly who A.I.M. targets, so it's very likely they could be behind this."

"And you're saying that follows up with the disappearances?" Frank asked cautiously.

"I'm saying we're all following something that's bigger than we imagined," Madani reaffirmed. "We need to compare notes and view more intel about this group. If the new gang is aligned with A.I.M. in some way or form, then we need to put a stop to it."

"We?"

"Yes Frank, _we,"_ Madani pressed without any hesitation. "I didn't spend this whole time trying to contact you just so that you can state your business and then cut me off. It's best to stop them now before it turns into something far worse. So either we help each other, or we end contact, right here, right now."

Matt didn't know if he had a say in this, but he knew Frank was thinking through the options. It would be the best option to take if they had Madani's help. A CIA agent with access to records and who was willing to put her career on the line to help two vigilantes was already something that impressed him. She could provide another perspective to see past the repeating cycle of dead ends and into another conclusion. The gears turned in Frank's head, and after a few minutes of silence, he seemed to make his decision. 

"Alright Madani, we'll help each other out. But we all need to be on the same page, got it?"

"Fine by me, as long as we can get something done."  
  


With that being said, the three of them began the briefing as they shared information. More ends were being tied now that the pieces came together, much to Matt's relief.

They pretended as if their little break never happened. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The sun was beginning to set slowly by the time they were done with their meeting with Madani. She’d decided to send a few files over through Micro's computer about case studies and government reports on A.I.M. and older organizations that were taken down before. One report had pointed them to a park in Brooklyn, where there had been sightings of gang violence in the area. Now that Madani was caught up in the potential gang war, she’d given Frank a layout of the recon mission. 

Now, with Frank’s phone safely tucked away, Matt mulled over the events of the evening. Even though it was none of his business, he still had the right to know how Frank knew a CIA agent. 

"She was a former homeland security agent," Frank said. "I spent my time hiding for a bit after that night helping you and your friend from the rooftop. Everyone thought I was dead, but Madani eventually found out about me when Micro and I began to find the people responsible for, well… everything." 

The ones who initiated the kill order on Frank's family. Matt had a pretty good guess that was why the Punisher had disappeared and travelled far away from Hell's Kitchen. However, while he’d been busy with the leftover scraps of The Hand, the news had gone wild over Punisher's return. Later on, Karen had acted distant towards him and Foggy during that time when the hospital event happened. Now, he was getting the full story. Or at least, some of it. 

"Madani was a hassle at first, but then she became involved with Billy and well… I guess we both got roped in on it." 

Matt was almost hesitant to ask who Billy was, but it seemed like Frank got the hint. 

"I never told you about Billy, did I?"

"You had no reason to tell me," Matt tried to assure him. "You still don't have to tell me, Frank. I understand."

"Nah, no need for that," Frank waved it off. "Just listen, alright? You know what happened in the hospital, about the million dollar bounty, and the shit I did after that. I always thought you of all people would want to know what happened on my end of the story."   
  


He was right about that. 

Matt had hoped Karen would tell him about it since it was all over the news. It was unavoidable that Matt would listen in about the Punisher's escape. But Karen had never brought it up, and she’d returned to the office firm as if nothing had happened prior that day. He’d never bothered with his questions and they’d left it as that.   
  


"I did want to know, but I always thought it was best that I never found out the entire truth."

That reply earned him a scoff. "Since when have you ever tried doing that? Don't give me that shit, Red. I'm telling you this because I trust you." 

Matt lifted his head up a bit as he finished securing his gloves. Throughout their time working together there was always a sense of trust that went through. Even though there was no choice but to trust each other, hearing it out loud was something almost unorthodox. 

"Alright…"  
  


As they continued to prepare, Frank talked about Billy Russo and the beginning of it. He talked about how Russo was his brother in arms, a soldier and close friend. Frank's family loved him of course, and he did everything he could to make sure of it. "But then he threw all of that away, and for what? Power? Money? Motherfucker knew my family loved him and he didn't do shit to stop their execution."

It was one of those small moments of vulnerability that Matt had come to appreciate. As Frank continued to tell him about Russo, he realized that it pained him to hear Frank like this. Recounting the days of his hunt and the hell that he went through clearly wasn't easy. It reminded him a lot of a hurricane; Russo stirred it up, only for Frank and everyone involved to get caught up in it. Curtis and Madani became a part of it and so had a kid named Amy. Even Mahoney got caught in it at one point, and if it wasn't for Brett letting Frank go, Matt didn't know where he'd be by now. 

"Bill's been taken care of for good, and I’ve tied up all my loose ends," Frank finished as he adjusted his vest. "I still have that nagging feeling that maybe things would've turned out differently if I had just paid more attention… but I can't linger over the past forever." 

If they’d been drinking, Matt would've clicked his glass against Frank's as a way of agreement. "We can't change the past… but at least we can do something about the present. I know that too well," Matt replied softly. "We both know that too well. It just goes to show that it can create an opportunity for change for the future once we learn from it." 

"Couldn't have said it better." Frank nodded. Matt had almost forgotten about the mission they were preparing for. Just like the night where Frank told him about why he became the Punisher, the atmosphere changed and silenced the world around them. Something about Frank's words and the pure honesty within them had a way of making the background sound so far away.   
  


_"At this point, I'm the closest thing to a friend you got."  
  
  
_

Matt couldn't believe he was agreeing with the intoxicated memory of Frank, but he was right. 

There was no one else he could turn to. 

  
  


"All I can say about this is… thank you," Matt said. "For trusting me."   
  


The background began to filter back into his radar, and Matt realized Frank had nodded at him before he got up. "I'm glad you understand." Once that was said and done, Frank got what he needed from the conversation, and the two of them went over the mission once more.

  
  
  


Nightfall settled in with a cool breeze that made the trees shutter lightly. Autumn was about to reach its end very soon. 

The park was silent without people and animals around. From a far off standpoint, Matt perched next to Frank as he scoped in. Madani had told them about a few vehicles that had made stops at a few parks in Brooklyn. They’d managed to follow one suspicious van that had led them to an empty lot with another vehicle that had its lights off. 

"Hear anything?" 

"There's three of them: one is unloading a crate filled with weapons while the other two are on lookout," Matt explained. "Can you see what they're wearing?"

Frank took a moment to adjust the scope. "They match the description from the other assholes we dealt with."

Alright, it was the other gang and potential organization. 

They can't interact with them. All they could do for now was stay put and investigate. Matt continued to listen in and waited for one of them to say a word, or at least for another vehicle to pass by. Instead, he heard the sound of a… helicopter?

Where was that coming from?

"Frank, could you check the skies real quick?"

"Why?"

"I think I hear a helicopter, but it's almost inaudible." 

Before Frank could look around, the sudden appearance of another heartbeat came through. Matt focused on the group again, only for a fourth heartbeat to come from another distance. Whoever it was, they were rushing through the corners of the buildings to reach the park. 

"What the hell…"

Suddenly, the fourth heartbeat picked up its pace once the unknown person swung in and crashed right onto the van. When the alarm was activated, the other three suspects panicked. They dropped the crate and unleashed bullet sprays onto the newcomer. 

"Frank what's happening?" 

"I don't know! The man's got a hood on and a white cape, he's definitely not a part of their gang. Where the hell did this asshole come from?!"

"Wait, don't do anything yet," Matt hissed as he tried to listen in once more. The hooded figure Frank had described punched through two of the gang members and knocked them into the side of the vehicle. Matt tried to ignore the alarm, and the figure threw something towards one of them, almost like a disc that sliced through the air. It knocked the gun out of their hands and the figure slammed his elbow in the other's back. Multiple kicks and punches went through with a few tricks that helped him evade the oncoming attacks. Whoever this person was, they were trained with skillsets Matt could recognize. 

_"Who are you and what are you doing with these weapons?"_ The figure said as he had maintained a hold against one of them. The other two raised their guns at the newcomer as he demanded answers. The grip he had on the other tightened, preventing the suspect to breathe properly. _"I'm not taking the silent treatment for an answer. I know about the kidnappings, now talk!"_

Before Frank could steady the scope, and before Matt could brace himself to jump in, he heard the other two pull the trigger. They shot their friend multiple times and the figure ducked down and ran to avoid the crossfire.

In one swift movement, one of them shot at the gas tank of the car to create an explosion… that engulfed them both.

_No…_

_Not again._

The blast knocked the hooded person off his feet, but he managed to be far enough to avoid any further damage. Matt was too stunned to even comprehend what had just happened. He could tell Frank was just as shocked as he was. Everything was happening far too quickly. 

_"Damn it! We need to go… get the helicopter ready..."_

The boom of far away car alarms made it difficult for Matt to understand what the figure had said. A good guess told him that he’d spoken into an earpiece before he ran off towards the other direction. 

So there was a helicopter then. 

And the figure must've spoken to the pilot. 

He wasn’t alone. 

  
  


The subtle sound of the helicopter came through, but it was overshadowed by the multiple screeches of police and ambulance sirens. Matt began to back away from his position slowly, still trying to register everything that had happened before them. It was nothing but an absolute mess. This wasn't how the mission was supposed to turn out at all.

The rough tug of his arm snapped him back from the shock when he realized it was Frank that pulled him away. 

"We need to go!" 

Once they’d made sure no one was following them, they both ran back to the truck they had parked up in a secluded alleyway. They drove away the second a mob of police cars rushed past them. Frank's grip on the wheel tightened and Matt tried desperately to hone in on the helicopter sound. No luck. All he could hear were the sirens and Frank's unsettled breathing. 

  
  


"What the hell just happened…?" 

  
  


Once the lingering shock faded away, Matt couldn't find an answer for himself. 

Whoever this hooded figure was, at least they knew one thing for sure:

  
  
  


He was on their side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I wonder who that might be ,'B)  
> (The chapter title gave it away lol)


	6. Tilting the Hourglass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was Moon Knight last chapter haha.
> 
> Many thanks to GnomeWithALaptop and Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

  
VI

  
  


  
  


The change of scenery was nice for once.

  
  


Frank would’ve never considered going out of the house just to eat at a small diner. The idea of them being out in public together as their civilian selves was already an unlikely scenario. 

Well, not anymore. 

Now here they were, seated across from each other with two cups of coffee. The omelet they’d decided to split had been cleaned off their plates, so they relaxed in the neutral space. Gena's Diner used to be packed with people and employees filling out orders from left to right. However, Frank noticed the owner of the diner, Gena Landers, had become a part of the fallen when he saw there was a tiny mural for her at the front. Frank had only interacted with her a few times when he’d begun going around as Pete Castiglione. Whenever she was his waitress, they’d always talked about small topics and even shared gossip about what happened around the neighborhood. It had been Frank's way of knowing what goes on in the city. She’d been a good person, and just like everyone else that disappeared, many people missed her. He hoped her two boys were alright. It pained him either way if they either disappeared with their mother or if they survived by themselves. 

"Do you want to split the check? I can cover tip," Frank said as he glanced over to Red, who sat awfully still. 

"Yeah, we can do that," Red perked his head up slightly. "The news is about to go on."  
  


Frank went silent as he looked over at the tv implanted in the corner. The headlines repeated their mission synopsis of gang violence and kidnappings. Now that winter had finally arrived, the increase of this potential organization was starting to make its way to the news. 

_"... Multiple cases of these gang suspects choosing death over the truth followed sightings of the vigilante known as Moon Knight. Law enforcement officials advise those living in these areas to be cautious and to stay at home in the late hours…"_

  
  


As the news reporter began to list off the cities vulnerable to these gangs, Frank recalled the Moon Knight encounter he’d experienced with Red more than a month ago. Now that they had a name to match the white-hooded figure’s description, it was easy to say that this Moon Knight followed the same mission they had. 

"Well, any information on Moon Knight is worth the time," Red said once the news report had ended. "They listed off the same locations Madani gave us earlier. Think we can do another recon mission?"

"We can work on that later," Frank said softly as he took a sip from his coffee. Good, it was still hot. "Right now, let's just keep enjoying ourselves for a bit. You're all tensed up again." 

"I'm not tense."

"Yes, you are; loosen up a bit, Red. It's only been a few hours of daylight."

"I don't know how you've been convincing me to take things easy these days," Red sighed. 

Frank grinned at that response. "Maybe you've grown soft on me, who knows?"

" _God,_ no. I'd probably be out of my head if that ever happened." 

"Damn, I see how it is," Frank chuckled before he pointed a finger at Red. "No blind joke."

"I wasn't going to make one. Come on, it was one time."

"Yeah, whatever you say." 

Despite their grievances and the plethora of arguments, it was oddly comfortable, talking to Red. Whether they were discussing the layout of their missions or simply talking to each other casually, Frank had begun to appreciate the sort of banter they had developed. Ever since the hurricane Russo had created, Frank had spent his time alone, even after he’d refused Madani's job offer long ago. Never would he have imagined himself actually enjoying the Devil's company, but since the aftermath began to count down the months and missions led to close calls, here they were. Back then, he would’ve lost it if he ever got to see the present day. 

The time that Frank told Red he trusted him was when things took a turn for the better in his opinion. Red's bitter outlook had begun to wither away slowly and eventually, and Frank had gotten to see hints of improvements. Even though there were times that Red loved being an asshole to him unironically, the moments where they acted like teammates for once were completely satisfying. This rare moment where they ditched the masks and vests to be themselves proved itself to be worth it. It led to safe topics of the weather, their music tastes, what to order for dinner tonight— all of it was painless. They started talking about their childhoods at one point.

"Of course I was an asshole kid, Red. My parents didn't do shit about it."

"I never doubted that," Red chuckled as he leaned back against the booth. "I'd be _very_ surprised if you were a well-behaved child." 

"Nah, that wasn't me, but at least I wasn't that much of an asshole to pick fights at church," Frank jabbed at the man across from him. He wasn't surprised that Red would be the kid no one wanted to mess with. Especially when they always got their asses kicked. "Speaking of church, do you ever plan on going to mass? Sunday's coming up." 

From that simple question, Red made a small frown. Many Sundays had come and gone, and Frank was curious if Red had ever made the time to go back. He was a sanctimonious bastard after all, but now the question hung heavy over his head. 

"I… can't," Red simply said. "Not ever since the aftermath… it would make sense to go after everything that's happened, but I don't think I can bring myself to set foot inside the church." 

The silence was an obvious sign that the subject should change. Alright, religion was out of the question. As surprising as it was to hear Red say that, it was best to not dwell on it too much. 

"That's fine, no judgment here," Frank said softly, quickly switching topics. "Nights are gonna get real cold soon. We should probably stock up on thermal wear so that we won't freeze our asses off." Seasons changed so quickly now and holidays were passing by as if they were regular days that held no significance. 

"I think we'll be fine."

"I don't know about that. I’d rather not get frostbite in the middle of a mission."

"Trust me, you're not going to be turning blue anytime soon."

"How would you know? You associate temperatures with colors?" 

"Sometimes, mostly red and blue," Red explained. "Certain smells and sensations I can associate with other colors but I can still remember what they look like. The primary colors and gray are the ones I can easily remember."

Huh, that was interesting. Frank continued to ask, while adding a bit of humor. "You ever associate certain emotions with colors, especially with people?" 

That got him a small laugh under Red's breath. It was barely audible, but Frank managed to catch it. "Sure, I guess depending on what the person is feeling, I could associate a color. I can't necessarily sense auras or something like that, but it's close enough. Back when I was a kid I used to imagine what color a person's soul would be, just to secure the memory of it." 

"Oh really?" Now Frank was curious. "Alright, well… what color do you associate me with?"

"You'd definitely be a gray," Red said without hesitation. "Almost like a dark gray, not black… like charcoal or sable."

"Really? Sable? I would be at least a blueish gray," Frank joked back. 

"No, definitely a dark gray," Red took a sip from his coffee as a way of hiding his smile. "It matches you completely." 

"Yeah, whatever, as long as you don't start calling me Gray or Sable just to make matching color nicknames." 

"In your dreams," Red hummed. 

Once the check was paid for, they walked out to continue another one of their light chats. Maybe Frank was the one getting soft and not the other way around. Then again, Red was an enigma of a person, so the task of reading him was almost impossible.

Besides, they had more important tasks to do. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Has Madani called yet?" Red asked.

  
  


They decided to head back to Red's place rather than the Lieberman household. Red had to grab his laptop and a few files he had saved from previous reports, and they’d just happened to be right around the corner. Frank noticed the burner phone that sat quietly next to the laptop while Red listened in with one earbud. 

"No, not yet. She should be giving us a call soon." 

While Red tapped away on his keyboard, Frank noticed the familiar, conflicted expression that he wore. Something was on his mind. After months of working together, Frank could now easily tell when Red was feeling inner turmoil, even when he tried to hide it. Despite Red's evasiveness, his conflict wasn't that difficult to catch. 

"What's going on, Red?"

"Huh?"

"You got something on your mind, and it's giving you a hard time," Frank clarified. "Might as well say it out loud."

The typing stopped immediately and Red took out the earbud. Frank waited patiently, allowing Red to gather up his thoughts before putting them out into words. It's been rough days and nights for them constantly working on these cases. Mission after mission to break one cycle, which now led to a pit of something darker and more obscure. 

"I think we need to take some time and reevaluate our options."

Frank's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean by that?" 

"We may have uncovered one mystery with the gangs, but we're still stuck on this other one, which is a potential organization," Red stood up after he closed his laptop. "We may have to take other options as to how we approach them. One thing we can do is to find Moon Knight and see what he has on them."

"You actually want to go after him?" Frank asked. "Why him? Why don't we go contact Jessica Jones?" At one point during their early investigations, Frank had asked about her when a few cases were brought up briefly. Frank had guessed if Luke Cage and Iron Fist weren't dusted, they would've helped them. If Spider-Man hadn't been dragged out from his neighborhood to help the Avengers, he would've definitely helped them too. Despite the fact that they were gone, Jones was still around— alive and active—and she still lived in Hell's Kitchen. There were still people doing anything they could to get to her door and begged for her help. Red had acted cagey about the suggestion and told him that Jones might not help them after everything that had happened. Both because of Red faking his death and the fact that Jones had other cases to work on. "I'm pretty sure she knows you're still alive, Red," Frank said finally.

"It's not worth her time," Red shook his head. "Besides… I don't think she would ever want to face me again." 

"So you’d rather go for a stranger than someone you're already associated with?" Frank questioned. What kind of logic was that? Did he think Jones would be pissed off about him being alive? As for the other vigilante… "How do you know Moon Knight will cooperate? We've barely been in the same damn area." 

"He's working on the same mission as we are, Frank! Jessica probably has her own problems to deal with and so far, Moon Knight's the only prominent vigilante— besides us—that is actually cracking down on this organization."

"We don't know if it's an organization—"

"It's _very_ likely that it is one," Red pressed further. "Madani has further evidence to prove that, and if this organization has some affiliation with A.I.M., we need to be one step ahead of them." 

"And you think Moon Knight is going to be that one step ahead?"

He noticed the pause that Red created once more. There was more. This wasn't the only option he’d thought of, and it seemed like the second option wasn't as… acceptable, as the first. Frank understood this all too well. He'd made this decision before, thought about other alternatives until deciding on the final one. 

Last resort. 

It was a last resort option, and Red was nowhere near enthusiastic about it. 

"No… Moon Knight isn't our one step ahead. He's more of an alternative perspective to take. A way of gathering more intel and a potential ally if he allows it," Red started as he took a slow breath. 

"Tell me."

Red took another minute before he simply said: "We go undercover; we find a way to get in the organization as new members and investigate from the inside. From there, we stop them before it gets worse."

  
  


Red was serious. 

Jesus Christ, he was _serious_.

Frank couldn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. Go undercover and _pose as gang members?_ Follow their rules for a bit and then turn against them? 

No.

It was crazy, downright insane.

That would never work. Not with a gang. Not with an organization. Certainly not with Red's code. 

That sounded nothing like a last resort. It sounded more like a suicide mission. 

"No," Frank simply said with a stern tone. "No, no way. That ain't happening, Red. We are _not_ going to do that."

"I told you, it's a last resort option—"

" _Fuck_ that! That ain't no last resort. Red, are you even listening to yourself?" Frank asked. He tried to stop his temper from getting worse. He didn’t want this discussion to get out of hand and turn into another one of their arguments. However, he had a feeling it wasn't going to last long before they were both screaming off the top of their lungs. "Have you forgotten what we're dealing with?" 

"I know what we're dealing with, Frank. You don't think I hate this option just as much as you do?" Great, now Red was getting pissed too. "You don't think I've spent nights thinking of other ways to go around this shit and hoping there was another way? There isn't one! People are being kidnapped, piles of evidence are being erased, and others are dying because of this ridiculous gang war they've created! What we're doing isn't working!"

"And do you think that maybe, just maybe, this shit could've been taken care of if you stopped putting it all on us?" Frank growled loudly, no longer restraining the anger that had been building up earlier. "If we could gather more perspectives from people we already _know,_ then maybe this shit would've been taken care of months ago?" 

"There's the Moon Knight option. I offered that just a few minutes ago, didn't I?"

"And there's Jessica Jones, who you have worked with before," Frank said. "You, her, Cage, and Rand all worked together at one point. Don't think I didn't read the news on that shitshow."

"Yeah, and guess what, they're _gone!"_ Red shouted as he slammed his fist against the table. Frank almost flinched at how hard he did it, but Red easily regained himself. "Who else do we have? Who can we turn to, huh? All the other vigilantes are gone, or they’ve left the country, or they’re too busy with their own damn problems. This is _our_ problem, Frank. We need to fix it before it's too late."

Red's voice almost shook when he said the word 'gone.' Despite the many months that had gone by and the change of seasons, the wound was still fresh. Hell, it was probably still fresh for most people. Frank had understood how it felt for too long. Waking up in a cold sweat after reliving the horrible moment of when your family was murdered did that to a person. While he’d reluctantly accepted the Liebermans and Karen's deaths, Frank knew it wasn't so easy for Red. The man had lost his closest friends, his only family he had left. 

He was trying to do the right thing, even if it meant accepting all the risks that came with it.

But that didn’t mean that Frank would allow it. 

He was not going to let Red think that this suicide mission was the only way to fix everything. 

At this point, the first option didn't seem too terrible. 

"Red, listen to me," Frank started, this time with a low voice. "We're never doing this last resort option. Okay? Do you understand that? We're going to find Moon Knight _and_ gather up more intel from other people working on this. If it really gets worse, then maybe, we can try something else other than the last resort. But for now, this is what we gotta work with." 

"I didn't say I was completely certain on the first option." Red found his voice after the cool-down. "If he doesn't have anything to fill in what we're missing, I'm going for the last resort."

This god damned idiot. "No, you're not," Frank said again. "We're not going to argue about this again, damn it. You're not going to do the last resort option. If Moon Knight doesn't give us anything, then we're going to figure out another option and that's it." 

Red barked out a laugh, and it wasn't the soft, pleasant laughs Frank had finally gotten used to. It was back to the humorless, bitter ones again. "Sure, let's hope you can figure out something," he said. 

"I said _we_ ; we're a team, remember?"

Before Red could say anything else, the burner phone began to vibrate against the table. 

They both turned their heads towards it as it did so, as if the phone was the mediator in their argument. It continued to vibrate until the two of them finally got their shit together and calmed down. Frank decided to be the one to answer it, setting the call on speaker.   
  


"Whatcha got for us, Madani?" 

"I hope you two have been paying attention around your neighborhoods, because I have plenty of case files on this Moon Knight vigilante that could help us out with our problem."

"Oh, you have no idea." Frank sighed. "What do you have on Moon Knight?"

"Only the basics of him being a vigilante like you two: he wears a white hooded cape and mask, throws crescent-shaped disks around, has two truncheons and a helicopter." There was that sound of papers being flipped again. "Just making sure that matches the same description of the Moon Knight you guys encountered."

"Yeah, that's him." 

Madani gave a soft sigh. She sounded tired. "So there's only one Moon Knight then, thank god—anyway, I've gathered a few case files from an old friend of mine, Detective Flint. He's worked with this vigilante a few times before and has interviewed the organization suspects. I've contacted him for information and it's the same answer. Each one followed the same fate as the others. Obviously they didn't have guns on them, but the autopsies found cyanide pills lodged in their molars. We've noticed the increase of these suspects and decided to confirm that this is in fact, an organization."

There goes another confirmation. 

Red was right on one thing.

"Do they have any association with A.I.M.?" Red decided to ask. 

"Don't think so," Madani said. "It’d be extremely unlikely for this ‘organization’ to partner with anyone. They're behaving more like a cult than an organization. I'm sure you suspected that considering your history, Daredevil. Besides, almost all of their ‘agents’ have been sighted primarily in California. That's another section to deal with, but I'm sure a few SHIELD agents have that covered. For now, we need to focus on the New York group. Most of the crime being committed here sources back to them."

"What did you get from the sources?" 

"Moon Knight's been capturing a few of the Undertakers and Hell's Angels. Some of them fessed up and pointed fingers," Madani said, still going through papers. "A few of the newer agents here decided to dub this organization 'The Unspoken.' They've given no official name or cause to what they're planning, so I guess the ludicrous title could stay." 

"Well, I guess it sounds fitting," Frank simply said. 

"At least we can refer to them as something until they become more public. Besides the name, we have gotten more evidence thanks to his involvement." Madani said.  
  


Good, that was something Frank and Red needed to hear. They had a chance at success for once. 

"That's what we're working on right now, Madani," Red spoke up. "We're going to track down Moon Knight and see if he is willing to cooperate. If he has any other insight that we don't know, it's our best bet to find him." 

"If that's your best option, then go for it," Madani said. "I'm still trying to figure out what else we can do, but if there's any other options you two have…"

They both shot each other a glare.   
  


Red clearly wanted to ask Madani's opinion on the last resort. She could easily provide them enough coverage to get in with fakes and other accessibilities. However, Frank had made it clear they wouldn't be discussing it again. At least, for now. Before Red could say anything, Frank immediately interrupted him. 

"Nope, we're still working it out. We agreed to go after Moon Knight for information, right Red?" 

Even though it wasn't the entire truth, it was enough to make sure Red wouldn't say anything about it. The fists unclenched and his shoulders began to sag down. The tension was slowly slipping away, and Red tried his best to hide how livid he was. 

"Yes, that's the only option we have so far," he said.

Good. 

  
  


"Alright, you two let me know how that works out. I'll be sending you the files I've been working with, Frank," Madani explained, her exhaustion now sounding more obvious. "I have to go, so don't keep me in the dark for too long, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," Frank answered. 

With that, Madani said her goodbyes and ended the call. While the atmosphere began to tense up again without a third voice, Frank simply released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. They continued to stand near the table until Red gave out a sigh himself and began to walk towards his kitchen. "You sure know how to get things your way, huh?" Red muttered, opening the fridge to fix up something to eat. Right, it was getting late. They had work to do soon. 

Frank rolled his eyes. "Come on, Red. You don't gotta be like that." He didn't have the energy to argue again. Not over something that shouldn't have been an argument in the first place. 

"I'm still serious about the last resort," Red simply said as he gathered a few slices of salami, cheese, and vegetables to make sandwiches. "If things don't work out with Moon Knight, I'm still going for it."

Damn it. "Red, just… keep thinking about other options, alright?" Frank said as he kept his voice steady. "I'm already going with your plan on tracking him down. We have a chance at this. Please… I just need you to really think this through and find other options." 

The tension from before fully died down when Red released it from his grip. Frank hadn't realized how quiet it had gotten, probably because he never expected that to come out of his mouth. Damn, maybe he has been getting soft around the other man, which was something he had to snap out of soon. They had both agreed on this truce to be temporary, after all.   
  


Red only gave a small nod. "Alright Frank, I'll think about it. We'll go with the first option then." 

At least he got an answer he could be satisfied with. 

Even though the _'For now.'_ was left unsaid.

  
  


Throughout their short dinner, Frank ate quietly across from Red. It was a stark contrast to the peaceful morning they had in the diner. Now here they were, with a silence that weighed them down as if they were strangers again. 

"What happened between you and the other three Defenders?" 

Frank didn't expect to ask that out loud, but the deed was done, and it got Red to face him. 

The news had dubbed the four of them as 'The Defenders' during their little 'team-up' in defeating that weird ninja cult at Midland Circle. Even though Frank had been out of the city when he tried to live a new life, he had still stayed in touch with what happened. Karen had often given him updates when he reached out to her again. 

But Karen was gone. 

So his only way of getting answers was from the one that was there to begin with.   
  


"You clearly had something going on between them, and if I remember correctly, Daredevil disappeared at one point," Frank said without hesitation as he finished his meal. "Kinda wondered what made you disappear for so long."

He had hoped Red wouldn't give him the cold shoulder or sandbag the question completely. There was no malice or judgment in Frank's tone when he asked. It was genuine curiosity. 

However, Red took too long in giving him an answer, so Frank slowly backed away from the topic. "If you don't want to talk about it—"

"No, I do, it's just…" Red had already finished his meal by the time he answered. There was nothing on their plates now. "I have a hard time talking about it. What happened back then with those three and how I ended up with… everything else."  
  


The everything else being his disappearance, false death, and sudden resurgence.   
  


"I can be patient," Frank said. "But that doesn't mean I'm forcing you to spill. I mean it when I said that you don't have to talk about it."

His curiosity was pinned to the question of why Red wouldn't turn to Jessica Jones for help. Did he feel bad for disappearing on them? Did he encounter Jones before and she cursed him out? 

Hell, he would've gotten upset too, but he wouldn't blame Red for his disappearance. Especially when it had something to do with Midland Circle crashing down. 

"It still haunts me sometimes. Whenever I think about what happened back there," Red started as he lowered his head slightly. "I guess what truly set it off was the fact that I just… accepted it… accepted death itself."   
  


Now the answer had its own sense of clarity. 

  
  


When the plates were put away, Red continued to slowly talk about the past. How he’d dealt with The Hand. How he’d met the other three vigilantes that fought the same fight. How the woman from the rooftop, Elektra, was involved with the cult in bringing her back from the dead. It made Frank sick to his stomach. The idea that they could reverse death at any rate and make those vessels into soulless drones. 

Either way, Frank listened. 

He listened to what Red had to say, and how it was a way to get it off his chest for once. It was possible that Red might not have talked about this so heavily with Nelson and Karen. Obviously with the whole faking-his-death scenario, but after their reconciliation, he would've guessed Red had talked about it with them. While the conversation went on, Frank had noticed the two of them moved to the living room area where he sat across from Red. The lights from outside filtered in from the windows and they shined against the two of them. They painted them under red, purple, and yellow tones. It eased him, and Red managed to get out everything he needed to say. 

It left the simple conclusion Frank was worried about before: Red has dealt with this before. 

No wonder he was so adamant in accepting the last resort as an option. 

Red had already faced the potential of death; he had nothing to lose because he'd already lost everything. This was his way of accepting fate as it was. Even though it was still crazy, Frank couldn't blame him. At least, not as much as earlier.

The Hand was a fucked-up cult, and it was possible the organization now dubbed as The Unspoken could be another fucked up cult as well. The lingering possibilities went through and Frank had no choice but to accept it. 

As for Red? This wasn't new to him. 

Not by a long shot. 

  
  


"You know… I never would've thought I'd be here telling you all of that," Red admitted softly. "I always thought that one day I would be able to tell Foggy and Karen about it. But then the aftermath happened and…"

"... And yet here we are," Frank finished. 

Red only gave out a sad chuckle. "Yet here we are indeed." 

Frank hummed. "You didn't have to tell me all of that." 

"No, but I did because… well, I guess that was my way of letting you know that I trust you too," Red responded. 

Frank never thought he would admit this to himself, but it was nice to hear Red say that out loud. 

They both had mutual trust. 

"I'm glad we can agree on that." 

The sirens howled in the distance, and their private moment ended quickly. 

Frank knew Red had better hearing than he did, and they immediately grabbed their bags near the table to get ready. More missions to go through and more cases to investigate. Now they could only hope that this other vigilante could offer some insight. 

Deep down, Frank didn't want to go through with the last resort. Everything they worked could easily be ruined if they screwed it up even the slightest amount. But no matter how much Frank hated the idea, Red had a point. This organization was getting out of hand. 

If worse came to worst, Frank would have to go with the last resort option as well. There's no way in hell he would ever let Red go off on his own. 

  
  
  


For now, they had to get back to work. 


	7. The Lost and Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor character deaths tw
> 
> Many thanks to GnomeWithALaptop and Goldenspector for beta reading!

  
VII

  
  


  
  


After weeks of recon, they finalized a better plan. 

  
  
  


Matt had been certain by the civilian reports and city layouts that they were closer to finding Moon Knight than before. Madani's research and their intel had proven otherwise when they found themselves on a rooftop in Queens. 

They were investigating the trail of another important target. 

One that may have some connections with the Unspoken. 

Before their mission began, Matt laid out a few ground rules:

_"Remember, if any of them show up, we have to make sure they don't get the chance to end themselves. We can't risk any more lives, especially theirs."_

_"I know, Red. I'll make sure they don't get any ideas."_

  
  


Frank kept his eye on the scope while Matt listened in on the apartment building. The cold winds had died down earlier in the night, which gave Matt an advantage to hear their target more clearly. If they timed their location and mission correctly, then they had a good chance of succeeding. 

When the hour went quiet, the only thing Matt picked up on his radar was a car coming in to park across the building they were on. 

"Asshole's here," Frank said. 

  
  


Out of the car came Joshua Bernat, a former mafia leader who had close affiliations with Hell's Angels and connections with members from the other gangs. He had also been targeted by Moon Knight, which the case report done by Detective Flint had revealed earlier. This was where the meeting point would begin. 

While Bernat entered his apartment building, Frank kept himself steady at the rifle while Matt followed the man's heartbeat. It had a regular slow pace as he took his time to reach his apartment, and the smell of the tobacco that stuck onto his clothes was prominent in the air. So far, Matt hadn't picked up on any other heartbeat inside, which meant that Mr. Bernat was alone. For now, at least. 

"I think we should get going," Matt said.

Matt waited for Frank to pack up the rifle before they descended the steps. As they continued their way down and outside the building, the screeching sound of tires came in. It had almost stunned Matt in his place. He’d picked up the sound from an alleyway further down the street, but then there’d been that familiar, pumping heartbeat that Matt recognized from a few nights ago.   
  


_He's here._

"Frank, we have to hurry…"

The mission suddenly turned into a race as the two of them entered the building through the back entrance and rushed up the stairs. Frank jumped into a vent, and Matt followed. When they eventually got to the floor of their destination, Matt heard a window break and multiple items crash against the floor. No other apartment made a sound, as if they were no other residents present. The only sound was a choked off scream at the end of the hallway. He focused. One panicked heartbeat near the door and another crouching above the first; the second had a rhythm that made no sense to his ears. Shit, _he’d_ gotten to Bernat before they did. Matt placed a hand against Frank's chest to stop him from going any further. He had his assault rifle out and ready to use, but Matt didn't want this to turn into an all-out brawl. They had to be careful and try to approach this situation as carefully as possible. 

He raised a finger to his lips before he signaled Frank to move forward. The two of them made sure their steps didn't press too hard into the floorboards as they approached the far end of the hallway. The door was still intact, but the two heartbeats from before were still behind it. He could sense anticipation from one of them.

_He's waiting for us,_ Matt thought to himself. 

While they approached the apartment room, everything went eerily quiet. At this point, the only ones that can make the first move were him and Frank. He could tell Frank was waiting for an order. Frank probably wanted to go with the simple plan of busting down the door and using it as a shield. That plan usually worked well in terms of who their enemy was. But this wasn't their enemy, at least, they didn’t want him to be. The only thing they had to worry about was the crescent discs, and Matt could easily block them off if he timed himself right, so he nodded towards Frank for them to continue. 

After a silent pause that sufficed as a countdown, Frank got to work and kicked down the door. Immediately, Matt sensed an arm already pulled back before it threw the blade at them. He blocked it with ease using the armor guards and signaled Frank to move forward. Across from them was—from what Matt could tell—the living room. Bernat sat in a chair, bound with a thin rope, his hands, and feet tied down. Next to him was Moon Knight, who was staring right at them with his arm pulled back for another throw. 

The four of them were silent.

Matt stood there with his hands already up as a way of being passive while Frank slowly lowered his gun. They had to make sure they weren’t mistaken as the enemy. 

"Easy, we're not here for a fight," Matt started as he faced the other vigilante. "We just want to talk."  
  


"Oh crap, it's you two…" Bernat groaned. "Another set of vigilante freaks to deal with. Today's my lucky day, huh." He then earned himself a kick to the shin from Moon Knight. 

Moon Knight looked back at them, silent for a moment until he folded his arms. "Daredevil and Punisher; I thought the news was exaggerating from the reports of you two being seen together." 

It was so strange to hear him speak. He had a clear voice that almost sounded sharp at the edge of his tone. 

"Not an exaggeration, but you know how reporters can get," Frank spoke up. 

"Ain't that the truth," Moon Knight said before he faced Matt and stared at him. Matt didn't move from his spot, and the tension began to circle back to them again. After another set of seconds, Moon Knight spoke again. "I kinda miss the red suit and horns. When did you decide to wear that shit again? It looks awful."   
  


Matt was taken aback slightly.  
  
 _Excuse me?_ _  
  
_

That got a laugh from Frank. "All right, so I'm not the only one who thinks that."

_Really?_ First impression and this is what the topic turned into?

"What—Listen, that’s not important right now," Matt said. "What's important is that the three of us need to talk—"

"Yeah, gotta agree with the Devil here," Bernat spoke up with the vocal expression of boredom. "Can you three quit the chit-chattin' and hurry up? I gotta get out of here real soon." 

"You're not going anywhere." Moon Knight immediately turned to him. 

"Oh yeah? Well then blow me, asshole—" a swift punch across the face went through that got Bernat to shut up again for a quick second. Moon Knight wasn't in the mood for any bullshit such as sarcastic comments. After a low, pained groan, with a couple of droplets of spit and blood that fell through, Bernat lifted his head and let out a sputtering laugh. "Okay, okay, note taken." 

Frank approached them slowly. "Alright, you want to interrogate so badly? Let me give you a hand in that."

"Who said you were helping?" Moon Knight hissed at him, still holding a crescent blade. 

"Listen asshole, we didn't come all the way here just for you to tell us to piss off," Frank snapped back as he pulled out the file cases from his bag. "We're just here to get answers." 

"We're all here to get answers," Matt said as he walked over to the three of them. "We're all working on the same case against the organization and the gang wars. We read up on the case file Detective Flint prepared that led us to Mr. Bernat."

"How do you know Detective Flint?" 

"We don't; we have a friend of ours that works in the same field." Not the same field of work, but Madani and Flint were both tackling the same fight. "But we've planned on meeting you for a long time. You have the information we want and we have the information you want. We can do a simple trade of gathering up the clues, finding answers, and then we can go our separate ways. You just have to trust us for this one night."

Even with Bernat's raspy breathing, the atmosphere went silent again with Moon Knight at the center. This was it. This is what their options had led them to. If Moon Knight refused to follow, then it would all be thrown out the window and Matt would have to face the last resort again. Despite Frank's persuasion on thinking about other options, Matt had a difficult time creating more. They all led back to the start of the cycle, and that was something he didn't want to go through again. 

After another pause, Moon Knight nodded slowly, stepping aside a bit for Frank to reveal the evidence at hand. They both took it as his way of accepting their help, which relieved Matt to no end.   
  


Off to a good start then.  
  


"All right… Mr. Bernat, we have some questions for you," Matt started as he faced the former mobster. 

Bernat only gave him a shrug. "Got nowhere else to go, _apparently_ , so sure. Why the hell not." He sounded nowhere near enthusiastic, but then again, he was tied to a chair with a broken nose. 

Frank presented him with the evidence on the Unspoken. Mugshots of arrested members, common locations, written reports—they were presented not only to Bernat but to Moon Knight as well. Throughout the interrogation, Bernat made clear answers before he began to sound vaguer as the questions went on. "You're going up against a lost cause…" he simply told them. "No matter what you do, they'll always be one step ahead of you. You can't stop them with your methods, especially when they have nothing to lose." 

"Then what do you think they're hiding? What is it that makes them decide to face death instead of incarceration?" 

Now Bernat gave out a low laugh, wheezing slightly as he did so. The restraints against him didn't help much, but he continued nevertheless. When he dragged it out for too long, Moon Knight pulled at the rope to tighten the restraints.   
  
"What's so funny?" Matt asked with a growl. 

"You… you three are!" Bernat wheezed out before he took his time to catch his breath. "Listen, I know you guys wanna do the right thing and all, but these bastards you're facing? They're not gonna stop! I've tried helping out the three gangs plenty of times with my advice and my men, but those new assholes they were up against were far more than just competition." 

"And what did you do?"

“I tried to make a compromise with them, but I realized that it wasn’t going to work out so well,” Bernat shrugged again. "You wanna know how to stop them? Either wipe them off the face of the planet or leave New York and never look back."   
  


They were not going to do this again.

They would _not_ deal with another dead end.  
  


Matt reached over to grab Bernat by the collar, pulling him against the rope. "You have more information on this than you're leading us to believe. You're hiding something."

"I ain't hiding shit!" 

That was a lie. 

Another pull against the ropes and the man began to choke up slightly. Not enough to hinder his breathing, but enough to keep the pressure-tight. 

" _Yes_ , you are," Matt fired back as he maintained his hold. Moon Knight backed away slightly and Frank stared at him, unmoving. "There's more you're not telling, so I'd rather you stop wasting time and spit it out." 

Bernat coughed again before he nodded furiously. "All right, all right, relax! Listen! I have to hide shit because they'll know! They got a bunch of Mutants and Inhumans on their side with freaky powers that can help them get away with anything. They've killed and taken some of my men, probably brainwashed them or blackmailed them into following their rules. I'm trying to _not_ be on their list!" 

"What do you have on them? Where do they usually strike?"

"I have their old connections, along with specific locations: warehouses, down the docks, downtown, you fucking name it," Bernat hissed out. "At this point, they're everywhere now. It's only a matter of time before they create hell and spread outside the state. Their only motive is to start shit and watch everything burn to the ground. Someone's gotta put them down."

"They've taken innocent people, they've taken young adults and children," Matt argued. "Are you seriously suggesting to us that we need to put them down?"

Bernat scoffed while he shrugged once more. "If that's what it takes, be my fucking guest. But only death can save them now, ‘cause no matter where this goes, you're on the losing side. If you're not going to do it, someone else will. They're not going to last long and you know it."   
  


_God damn it!_

Out of frustration, Matt punched Bernat square in the jaw to render him unconscious. It was a stupid move, but he didn’t want to hear another word come out of his mouth. The information sunk in as Frank came in from behind to pull him away. It was all the same, over and over again. Limited options, vague motives, a chance of death, and destruction—they're back at the start of the cycle. Moon Knight got up and started walking around the apartment, searching for anything at this point that could help them. Frank was still at his side, and he kept his hand steady on his shoulder. For some reason, Matt could've sworn that he sensed some sort of concern coming off him. Why the hell would he be concerned over him? 

"All I could find was his burner phone in the drawer," Moon Knight informed them. "This could help if you look through the contact list."

"What about you? Do you have anything else on you that can help?" Frank asked. 

"A few locations on where they'll strike next, both the gangs and the organization. But I'm just as lost as you two."

Matt was still taking his time to reassess the entire situation. There had to be another way to fix all of this. There had to be more connections they could find that could give them an answer. A different answer than the last resort. A better answer than murder. _Anything_ but murder.   
  


Suddenly, a rushing sound of multiple footsteps entered his radar and Matt perked his head up.

The footsteps were approaching the apartment. 

"I think the cops are coming," Moon Knight informed them. "Someone must've heard us yelling and snitched." 

Something about these footsteps sounded… off.

They weren't huddled together, they were more dispersed. Only a couple of them had guns, and there was no scent of metal and gunpowder. 

Instead, that familiar smell of white phosphorus came through.

"They're not cops," Matt said as he went over to undo the restraints on Bernat. "We need to go." 

"It's them, isn't it?" Frank pointed his gun at the door.  
  
“They’re rushing in. Let’s get—”  
  
  
Bullet sprays pierced through the walls before Matt could finish his sentence. A brief chorus of mayhem went through the room as everything happened too quickly. From the attack, Matt soon realized that he had been pushed down to the ground by Frank and the smell of blood began to emerge. It didn't come off from Frank or him, not even from Moon Knight, who had ducked behind the couch. Matt was dazed for a moment, trying to keep up with what was happening, but he was too distracted by the copper that now filtered through the air. 

And then it hit him. 

Of course, none of the three near him were bleeding out. 

No… it was coming off Bernat, whose body was now slumped off the chair and onto the floor with no heartbeat. 

_No..._

No no _no, that wasn't supposed to happen!_

  
  


He was supposed to pull him off the chair. Why did he take too long? Why the hell didn't he pay more attention? 

Their one source of intel—their one conclusion— _gone_. 

This was not how the plan was supposed to go. 

"Red, we gotta move!" 

Frank practically lifted him off the ground to shove him behind a chair before he turned his focus back to the door. When the aftershock finally wore off, the smell of gasoline irritated Matt's nose and was stronger than the phosphorus. 

"They're going to light this apartment up. We have to go now." 

A grunt sounded from the other side of the living room. "There's no use fighting them; there's a fire escape staircase out the window! We can go through there," Moon Knight said. It was their best shot. 

They had already lifted the window up by the time the door broke down. Frank managed to get a good shot at one of the intruders before he escaped behind the other two. A horrible sound of glass breaking went through the air, and smoke started to filter out of the apartment once the three of them ran back into the alleyway. The set of footsteps came from far behind as they picked up the pace. "They're heading down towards the back to follow us," Matt warned as they approached the corner. 

"Damn it, we're too far away from the warehouse!" Frank growled. 

A soft knock on metal came through after Moon Knight cleared his throat. It took a minute for Matt to realize that there had been a vehicle hidden within the alleyway. There was also someone already in the driver's seat. "Is that a goddamn _limousine?"_ Frank asked, completely flabbergasted. Matt had never heard him sound so surprised before. 

"Yes, it's a goddamn limo—now either get in or start jogging!"

At least Moon Knight was acting more cooperative. 

When the three of them got in, the driver almost jumped in his seat from the sudden jolt.

" _Christ!_ You couldn't have given me a warning that you brought guests before getting in?" the driver said. He had a thick French accent. 

"Sorry, Frenchie, brought some guests. Now can you do us a huge favor and drive as fast as you can? We're being followed." 

"Again, a warning would've been nice!" 

Matt wondered if the driver was the same man that had piloted the helicopter from before, but the question slipped his mind once the limo started up and began to speed down the empty street. He lowered the window to get a better chance to listen for the enemy. The driver went through the darker parts of the back streets, but the upcoming sound of tires screeching against the open road came through. "They're behind us!" 

"I got it!" Frank shouted as he lowered his window and shot through the other vehicle. He ducked back in once another round of bullets went through. One of them had nicked him in the shoulder. "Fuck! These assholes want us dead." 

"Keep them busy!" Moon Knight ordered as the ceiling window pulled back for him to pop out the roof of the car. Matt heard the sharp, crescent discs slice through the air to pierce through the enemy's windshield. They had to continuously duck down every time their enemy shot through. These assholes were persistent and increasingly annoying to deal with. The fact that they were risking everything to try and take down the three people said something to Matt. It started to paint a familiar picture. "Pass me one of your blades!" he shouted at Moon Knight.

"What?" 

"Just pass me one!" 

Moon Knight immediately gave Matt a couple of the crescent blades while he whispered, "You owe me new ones." 

Matt took a few seconds to feel them before he readied his arm. The vehicle continued to follow them without any sign of it backing down. Either it was heavily armored, or their driver had incredible driving skills. Or both.   
  


It was complete hell on Matt's senses as he tried to focus on the target. The wind blew straight into his face as soon as he leaned out the window, the smell of rubber being burned against the gravel seared its way into his nose, even as low cracks of gunfire echoed off the pavement and surrounding cars. It threw his radar sense into disarray. Still, he had to do something to slow them down, so all he could do was silently pray that he would hit the car at least. Matt threw one of the discs to get it to hit the windshield. It should be covered in cracks and holes by now. He kept going in hopes of making some progress and hoped that Frank had a clear shot to aim at their tires. The speed of the limo picked up further as it drove through another intersection. There came the cacophony of other vehicles that were forced to swerve out of the way and honked their horns. Soon, sirens began to join in once the car chase began to appear on their radar. The mission felt nothing more than an unwanted, nightmarish rollercoaster. 

"We're approaching the docks!" Frenchie shouted. 

A successful shot to one of their tires came from Frank instead of the other way around. It gave Frank a brief wave of relief before the adrenaline kicked in once more. Another tire screech from the enemy's vehicle sounded off once the car collided against the large crates in the docks. The limo immediately drifted into a halt and the three of them braced themselves once more before the car came to a complete stop. 

"Mar— _Moon Knight_ … if you ever bring me into a shoot-out without giving me a head's up beforehand… I _will_ shoot you," Frenchie grumbled as he heaved from the driver's seat. 

"Love you too, Frenchie. Now just… stay here," Moon Knight lifted himself off the car floor before he nudged at the other two. "Come on, we need to go." 

The smoke had begun to clear by the time they approached the beaten vehicle. A few of them began to break free from the car doors before they were cornered. 

"You got nowhere to go," Frank snarled as he grabbed one by the collar. One of them recovered quickly and ran towards him with a knife out, yelling wildly. Matt leaped over to shove the knife user down to pin him to the ground. The others were cornered by Moon Knight as he held another at the throat with a baton. He had quickly shoved his knee up against their stomach and forced them to drop their rifles. The chase had turned around in their favor. Now Matt needed to figure out how to interrogate them without them ending their lives completely. 

"They're not gonna say a word as always," Frank grunted. 

Matt nodded as he pulled the knife user up. On his right, Moon Knight scoffed. "That's because they don't want to give out their leader's name." 

That was a lie. 

"How… how do you know that?!" The one being held by Moon Knight squirmed in his grasp as he babbled rapidly. 

Before Moon Knight could answer, the knife user began to fight back against Matt's hold, kicking him in the leg. Soon, the chaos from before began to erupt once more when the group started to cause more trouble in their capture. The knife user used his weight to bring Matt down to the ground with him before he rolled over to grab the knife. Asshole was going straight for the kill, and Matt wrestled him once more until the knife sliced at his arm and chest.

"What the hell are you hiding?!" Moon Knight demanded as he fought against his hostage. 

A shot from Frank went through that made the knife user cry out in pain. It gave Matt enough time to slam his forehead against his to stun him and push him off. The sirens cried out into the night again, and they were loud enough to warn the entire group. Damn it, the police were approaching and they still haven't gotten any answers. 

"Shit, the cops are headed this way!" Frank growled as he shoved the other person against the ground. However, it gave that person enough time to grab the knife that was dropped from earlier and—

"Wait!"

The knife sliced clean against the person's throat before any of them could put a stop to it. 

It happened again. 

It happened again and they couldn't stop it in time.  
  


Frank immediately dropped down as he pulled out a cloth tucked in his pocket to stop the bleeding. It was completely instinctual. Matt appreciated the effort greatly, but it was too late. The entire plan had been ruined the second they’d shot Bernat. There were now two dead bodies, and the sirens continued to draw closer each second. 

"You can't save him," Moon Knight informed as he grabbed the leftover restraints and tied up the others. He walked over to where Frank was to pull him away from the dead body. "It's too late for that. Both of you need to get out of here before the police arrive."

"What about you?" Frank asked. "You have the burner phone, don't you?" 

"Hold onto it for me then," Moon Knight handed the phone over towards him. "I need to get back to the limo."

"Moon Knight, listen to me," Matt found his voice once he held his bleeding arm. They couldn’t waste their chance now. "I know it's only been one night, and I know we said we would go separate ways, but I'm taking that back now. You saw first hand what just happened. Please… we need to stay in contact. No one else would help us but you. We're all working on the same mission—we can't keep this as a one-time thing." He hated how desperate he sounded, but after tonight's chaos, who could blame him other than himself?

"Look, I'm not the kind of person for team-ups," Moon Knight responded almost hesitantly. "There's a reason why most vigilantes aren't working together, and it's because of _that._ " He pointed at the direction of the police sirens. "New York doesn't want us around anymore. It's better to keep us separated than have us be banded together like a group. Besides, we already traded information, remember?"

"And yet we're back to square one on everything. That's not enough," Frank grunted as he walked over next to Matt. "This shit is gonna keep happening again and we're gonna eventually meet up again. It's happened before, so might as well work on this together." 

"I'm not Spider-Man, I don't go around looking for partners to make our little club like some sort of pseudo-avengers." 

"Yeah, and I’m not Nick Fury or Captain America," Frank shot back with a threatening tone. "We're not asking you to help us and join in on this shitshow, we're telling you. 'Cause either way, you don't got much of a choice, and neither do we."

The police were now near the entrance of the docks. Matt knew that. The three of them knew that. Frank wasn't playing around anymore, and honestly, neither was Matt. They didn't want to corner the other vigilante like this, but at this point, they couldn't waste their opportunity. Working alone was never an option once they fell down this type of rabbit hole. 

Moon Knight groaned as he glanced over at the limo. "All right, all right, I got it! Now hurry the hell up and get back to the limo."

"You're giving us a ride back?"

"Don't make me regret it." 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"All right, your arm's good to go," Frank told him once he’d placed bandage patches over the cuts. "Just take it easy for now."

Matt had been quiet throughout the entire duration of the ride back to his apartment. Well, a ride back to the corner near his apartment, to be exact. Even though they had insisted on Moon Knight collaborating with them, Matt didn't want to throw all his cards on the table just yet. It wasn't because he didn't trust Moon Knight, it was more so the other way around. They wanted to keep his respect on the end part of the deal, which had been the result of a compromise they created during the ride back. They may work together for now, but their personal lives wouldn’t bleed into their vigilante lives. Frank never got an answer as to why Moon Knight had a limo. Matt never got to know if the French driver in the limo also piloted the helicopter from before. In turn, Moon Knight didn't know where Matt lived exactly or why the two vigilantes were going the same direction. This was their way of keeping equal ground. Whatever happened as Daredevil, Punisher, and Moon Knight stayed that way before dawn. Afterward, they would go their separate ways until the night called for them again. 

Well, Matt hadn’t parted from his collaboration with Frank just yet.   
  


Before they went their separate ways, Moon Knight had given Frank a business card when they were a couple of blocks from the apartment. When they’d asked him what it was for, the other man had simply said: "That's a taxi business a close friend of mine runs. You can trust him, I swear to Khonshu. Ring him up if you need anything from me."  
  


While Frank went to study the number on the card, Matt leaned back against the couch to reassess… everything. Their mission had almost gone wrong if it weren't for their persistence. The only successful parts to it were Moon Knight's compliance and the burner phone. Unfortunately, it didn't erase the fact that Joshua Bernat and an Unspoken member had died in the process. Both Bernat and the cult member could've provided something, _anything_ to stop the madness that is The Unspoken. What unsettled Matt completely was the fact that he didn't feel any twinge of guilt about their deaths.

If he had been fast enough to pull Bernat off the chair, he might have still been alive. If he had only knocked the knife farther away from their reach, that person wouldn't have slit their throat.   
  


It should've weighed him down, but instead, it only hindered him like a mild disappointment rather than a self-induced failure in protecting someone's life.   
  


It was painfully concerning, and Matt was starting to think that maybe Frank had a point after all. 

  
  


"You all right?"

Matt nodded lightly. "I'm fine, it's just… that mission didn't go as planned." What an understatement. A disaster would be the nicest thing to call it. 

"It took a turn for the worst, that's for sure," Frank agreed as he held onto the card. "Not sure how long those other members will last in police custody."

"Let's just hope they'll live long enough." 

Matt wasn't sure if a jail cell would be enough. 

"You know, I didn't expect a complete turn around on your part." 

Now the subject was being changed. "What do you mean by that?"

"The offer we made to Moon Knight," Frank explained. "I didn't expect you to try and convince him to continue working with us. Thought I’d have to be the one to do that." 

"Well, what can I say? I can give a good argument," Matt said dryly.

After Frank had cleaned up a few scrapes on his end, he went back to the living room with a wavering silence that followed behind. He picked up the card again that he had left on the coffee table, staring at it once more. "This card doesn't have a business name. It just says 'Jake Lockley' and a phone number."   
  


_Jake Lockley, huh?  
  
_

"That might be that friend Moon Knight told you about earlier," Matt said. "He was telling the truth when he said we could trust him."

"I'm not too thrilled about the idea of trusting a taxi driver."

"At this point, it's the best thing we got."

"Having a little faith in this guy, huh?" Frank asked. 

"Sure, you could say that."

Matt wouldn't consider it having faith. Rather, it was a risk he was willing to take, which in turn, would drag Frank into it as well. Any opportunity given to them shouldn't go to waste anyway. 

Before Matt could relax in the comfortable silence, Frank spoke up. "Are you sure you're alright?" 

"I'm fine, Frank. You just patched me up, remember?" 

"Not asking about that," Frank said softly. "I'm asking if you're alright after everything that's happened so far."

 _With the mission_ , he didn't say. Frank was concerned about how Matt felt throughout the mission, especially when the fact that two people had died from it. He could tell it had bothered him on the way back, but the distress Matt felt was closer to the sense of hopelessness. 

Matt hesitated for a moment before he sighed. "I… don't know how to feel right now. I can't tell if this mission was a success or not, and it bothers me like crazy that we couldn't save them from dying." 

He felt bad for at least one of them. 

Bernat was a corrupt criminal with an unappealing reputation, so his death wasn't going to haunt him anytime soon. The Unspoken member, however, could've been someone young. Someone who was probably manipulated. Someone with a future, and a chance of life and redemption.   
  


"The guilt's not eating you up?"

"Not as much as it should, but I can't spend the night mourning what's already been done," Matt replied sullenly. He'd already done enough mourning. "I guess I'm just tired; I don't want to repeat anything like that, especially with that car chase." 

A soft sound escaped from Frank, and it was hard to tell if it was a grunt or a chuckle. "Glad we can agree on something."

The exhaustion came quicker than they expected. Matt had gotten up to offer Frank the bed so that he can have more comfort to ease his bruises. However, Frank moved over to the couch and patted down the pillows. "I'm fine here, Red. Just go and get some rest." Matt didn't have the energy to argue with him, so he grabbed the spare blanket and gave it to him. 

"Good night Frank."   
  


Matt almost stopped himself.  
  


Well, that was new.   
  


He didn't expect to say that out loud. Never had they said goodnight to each other. They'd always had their weird way of greetings and farewells with simple nods and grunts. They've been working together for too many months, and Matt had now realized how comfortable he'd gotten in Frank's presence. 

"Yeah, good night."

It wasn't as weird as Matt expected, but either way, it was neutral. He went over to his room and allowed exhaustion to take over, with the uncomfortable sensation that the worst was yet to come. 

  
  
  


Matt wanted the worst to arrive as quickly as possible, just so that they could get it over with.   
  



	8. Alongside the Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to GnomeWithALaptop and Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

  
VIII

  
  
  


The following morning came with the smell of eggs, coffee, and buttermilk pancakes. 

It almost made Frank forget about the horrors from before, even if it only lasted for a moment. 

  
  


He had woken up with the memory of last night's mission. The car chase had implanted itself into his nightmares, forcing Frank to wake up with a sudden jolt while drenched in sweat. The dream showed him what happened if the three of them crashed in a bloody fire while the Unspoken bastards drove off without a scratch. Every time he slept, those dreams were always so vivid, as if what had happened before wasn't the real thing. It was something Frank was already used to, but it still annoyed the hell out of him whenever he tried to get some shut-eye. All they ever did was mess with his head and give him a sore neck. 

He remembered that he was back at Red's loft’ the two of them had been dropped off by goddamn Moon Knight. Now _that_ was something he still couldn't believe, but weirder shit has happened before. 

The peaceful hour of the early morning told him that Red was probably still asleep. It gave him enough time to fully wake up and make some breakfast to start the day. Frank hadn't been in Red's apartment too many times to know exactly what was in his kitchen, but the fridge proved itself to be a pitiful sight. A carton of eggs (only a few left), a half-empty jug of milk, and something wrapped in tinfoil were all it had. It was so painful to look at, Frank had no choice but to grab a key and head over to the grocery shop down the street, just to fill up the fridge with _something._ He knew Red wouldn't mind when he woke up to the smell of an actual breakfast. It would be enough to clear the memory of last night. 

Maybe it would do some good for both of them. 

When Red woke up, Frank decided to make an omelet with the ingredients he gathered. He took one glance at Red and— _Jesus,_ the other man looked like he had dragged himself out of a graveyard. Red's hair stuck out in a few places, and he had bags darker than his black outfit. Yeah, last night's mission had _definitely_ taken a toll on him in his sleep too. He’d probably mulled over Bernat and The Unspoken member's death all night.

"Morning, Sunshine, making an omelet right now," Frank said as he grabbed a plastic pack. "You like cherry tomatoes or nah?"

"Tomatoes?" Red asked in a raspy voice after he made his way over to the coffee machine to serve himself a cup. After one sip from his mug, Red was fully awake and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I like tomatoes." 

All right, he wasn't sure how steaming hot coffee helped with his throat, but Frank wasn't going to question it. "Good, you have some taste then." 

"You have something against people who don't like tomatoes?" 

"It's more the fact that I don’t want these to go to waste." Frank opened the packet and washed the tomatoes. "And yeah, when your entire family's Italian, it's kinda weird to hear about someone not liking tomatoes."

Red hummed as he set his coffee down, going towards one of the drawers to grab a cutting plate. "I understand where you're coming from; my dad used to make Venezuelan Perico a lot for breakfast and our Ecuadorian relatives would share their homemade shrimp ceviche with us, and those’re mostly tomato-based." 

Frank hadn’t expected Red to open up so easily about his family. He knew Red was Latino but wasn't sure where his family was from exactly. Then again, Frank did technically start the subject when he brought up his family background, but he wasn't complaining. It was… nice. 

"Did you go to the store and buy all of this?" Red asked after the omelet was finished cooking. Frank sliced it in half once they sat down at the dinner table. 

"Yeah, is there a problem with that?"

"No, of course not, I'm just… surprised is all. You didn't have to." 

"Your fridge didn't look too good being practically empty. We need food to keep us going, y'know."

"Yeah yeah, fuel and all," Red grunted as he took a bite out of his half. "But still… thank you, for doing that. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"You don't gotta pay me back, it's fine. Just accept this act of kindness, would ya?" 

For a second, he thought he saw Red smile at that. "Of course."

The morning went by with simple, harmless conversations. Frank brought up work by the time the omelet was almost done and asked how Red was doing as a bail bondsman. Or at least, how _Jonathan_ was handling it. "It's been slow lately, but I'm not complaining," Red said. "What about you? You've been taking more side gigs than I have lately." 

"Construction work here and there, but I've gotten more work with fixing anything broken around the neighborhood and walking dogs."

"So _that's_ why there's a lingering smell of dog on your jacket lately," Red said under his breath, almost in amusement. Frank caught it, but he only shrugged and finished his coffee. 

Breakfast served as a sort of intermission whenever they managed to have it. The aftermath always had an awful reminder the second they set foot outside, and their heavy responsibility of stopping the chaos that was the Unspoken only weighed them down in said reminder. Frank couldn't help but enjoy these moments of peace, even if it was with Red of all people. It was a stark difference to how they first met, and now here they were, trying to keep themselves sane with their sense of humanity. 

A part of him wished it could be just this, but Frank had to face reality by the time the caffeine hit and snuffed out that sense of bliss. The morning tried to spare them, but he knew that this facade never lasted long.   
  


Frank fiddled with the radio that sat on the counter once they had washed and dried their plates. He stopped the knob at a news station retelling the events of last night. Reporters declared that the burning of Joshua Bernat's apartment and his death was still being investigated. The only good thing that came out of this was that everyone else within the building escaped. Only a few items were destroyed, but no one else died within the fire and bullet sprays. The news media finally acknowledged the existence of the Unspoken and kept them divided from the other three gangs. The downside to this was that police were pointing the blame towards the gangs _and_ vigilantes. It was already clear that many civilians weren't on their side anymore, and being compared to a corrupt organization with cult-like behaviors wasn't a good look either. 

Frank changed the station once the host had finished their report, and stole a glance at Red from behind. Throughout the entire report, Red had been paying attention with a stoic expression, frozen in his seat, his mouth a thin line. A report of the Unspoken being acknowledged felt like a punch to the gut, and Frank wanted to spare him from that. Before Frank could say anything, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, and he already knew who it was. 

"Yeah?" 

"Oh good, you're not dead, at least we can work with something." Madani's voice entered the room. Reality broke through just in time. 

"Good morning to you too, Madani." 

"Yeah, yeah, morning, now let's cut to the chase," Madani began, already sounding like she wasn't in the mood for anything. "Last night, your mission, Moon Knight—how'd it go?"

Frank sighed. "Well, Moon Knight's willing to cooperate with us whenever we bump into him, so that's _something_ we can work with."

"And the bad news? Other than what happened with Joshua Bernat."

Of course, she had paid attention to that. "We're still not getting answers on what they're planning,” Frank said. “Bernat gave us what he knew, which were just ways on how to take them down: kill them all or leave the city and never look back." 

The phone managed to pick up Madani's sarcasm on the other end. "What a variety of solutions." 

"Tell me about it," Frank agreed as he glanced over at Red once more. Red was probably thinking through other options. 

"Are you sure those two are the only way to approach this? What did Moon Knight tell you?" 

"He doesn't have any other options either. We're all running around the same case with limited answers." 

"Not exactly limited…" Red added.   
  
  


_Shit, he was going to bring it up again._

"Daredevil, if you have something— _anything_ in mind, I'd be happy to hear it." Madani didn't sound anywhere near enthusiastic, but Frank didn't need heightened senses to tell that she was desperate for an answer. 

"Red, _don't_ …"

"I do, actually; I've been thinking about these options and all of them lead me back to this last resort option I've had," Red started boldly. "We're getting nowhere with going around the Unspoken, so I thought we should go undercover and find out what they're up to from the inside." 

"I thought we were going to think about other options no matter what," Frank said. "Isn't that the whole point of it being a last resort?" 

"We've been going through all of them and all they gave us were dead ends." 

"There's gotta be another way—"

"He has a point, Frank," Madani interrupted him before they went off into another argument. "As much as I would _love_ the idea of stopping out the Unspoken from the outside, it's not going anywhere, and they’re taking more people as we keep wasting our time on it. The Devil's idea might work—" 

" _Might_ work, Madani, you said it yourself. It's too much of a risk to pull off even if we had the resources," Frank said gruffly, glaring at both the phone and Red. 

"Yes, but _I_ can provide you both with resources," Madani argued. "I've given you both fake names and backgrounds before. I can easily do it again. And even if it gets out of hand, I'm sure you two can handle it and improvise." 

_God damn it_ , out of all people to agree with such a batshit idea of course it had to be Madani. Red perked up a bit as if what Madani provided gave him some sort of hope for success. However, Frank knew better. It was a last-resort option for a reason, and they still had more to uncover before going over the final result. 

"We still can't take that risk," Frank said as he kept his gaze on Red and—shit, he was making a face. Christ. "... Not _yet_ , at least."

From the soft hum that came from the speaker and Red's expression relaxing, Frank took that as an agreement. 

"Fine, we'll hold off on that, but right now I want to know what you two are planning to do tonight," Madani responded. 

The rest of the phone call went by with Frank explaining the Jake Lockley plan. Madani ran through a quick search on him, which showed Lockley being a simple taxi driver who had a few connections with entrepreneur Steven Grant. That information alone piqued his curiosity, especially with the idea of Moon Knight being connected to Lockley and Grant. Especially since one of those connections was some fancy _millionaire._ Steven Grant could be useful information if they played their cards right with Lockley. It could also explain why Moon Knight had a god damn limousine; he might've borrowed it from Grant through Lockley. Frank kept that in mind as Red went through a quick briefing with Madani. 

Afterward, Madani mentioned that she would start creating new fake IDs soon if necessary and ended the call with that final note. Red was exhausted, probably from both the phone call and everything else around them, while Frank sat silently and stared aimlessly. Madani knew about the last resort and she was in favor of it, which didn't sound too great in his mind. He grabbed the card again and pulled up his phone to dial Lockley's number. 

"You already have a plan?" Red asked. 

"The plan was getting Lockley to pick us up, remember?"

"Yes I know, but to go _where?_ He still has a job to do even when he's giving us intel." 

Right, they had to be casual about this. 

"We can tell him to drop us off at some random marketplace." Frank shrugged as the phone began to ring. "We need some clothes anyway." It was a harmless request after all. Besides, they do need to get new sets of clothing, especially with many months of recycling their wardrobe. And if the last resort option does happen… well, it was better to plan. Better safe than sorry. 

The phone gave Frank an automatic message from the voicemail system and he immediately stated their location. With that, they went to get ready for Lockley to pick them up, following a methodical rhythm they had already placed themselves in from the beginning. They behaved more like roommates now whenever they were at either location of the apartment and the Lieberman household. This was strange, but it gave them a sense of normalcy that they could never grasp once they stepped outside into the night with their civilian identities left behind. 

Sometimes Curtis would come over to check up on them and keep them grounded with any good news about the city. It was enough to keep them balanced in their double lives, and it gave them space for a pattern. Frank didn't mind at first, but now he was more aware of their little routine. Breakfast, then a call from Madani. Red showered first, then Frank, they suited up, and prepared themselves to face the day. Throughout the months, Frank had been meaning to get new clothes since a few of his shirts and pants had been worn out too many times. In the midst of it, he noticed the same thing happening to Red, along with other things like his hair growing out and more stubble on his face. It was now past the regular well-kempt look he had before, and Frank had caught the appearance of hair ties lying around the apartment lately. He wasn't going to complain, especially since his own hair had grown out a bit and his beard had started coming back. Still, Red should at least get a trim and a shave for once before people start calling him a hipster too. 

After they had finished getting ready, they immediately went downstairs to the front of the apartment building. The automatic voice told Frank that Lockley would be here in about thirty minutes, but it never warned him about the taxi driver being early. There was a cab already waiting for them at the front, with the driver’s seat window lowered for Frank to see a man with a mustache and a flat cap. They walked up to the cab and the driver looked up from his phone.   
  


"Hey uh, Jake Lockley?" 

"That's my name, don't wear it out. You the one that called, right?" 

"Sure did."

"Alright, whaddya waitin' for? Get in."

Red was already getting inside the cab and Frank had to follow him right in. Lockley put his phone away and placed a hand on the steering wheel. "Where to?" 

"You can drop us off at any nearby shopping mall," Red informed him. 

"Sure thing." 

The drive was quiet at first by the time they were a few blocks away from Red's building, with no sound from the radio. Eventually, Lockley raised the windows on his side and tilted his head slightly once they reached a traffic light. "Alright, either of you wanna start talking or what? I know you called me 'cause of Moon Knight so I'd like to know what you're lookin' for." 

Well, off to a great start. 

"So he told you we were going to call?" Red asked carefully. 

"Of course he did. If he didn't, I would've just dropped you off instantly without saying a single word," Lockley said as the light turned green. He drove past the shopping mall that was right next to them and continued his drive further downtown. 

"You drove past our stop," Frank said.

"Yeah, I know."

"Then where are we going?"

Lockley chuckled. "Relax pal, I just want to show you something that may be of interest. I know it might be really important to _you_ in particular." 

"Oh yeah? Why is that then?" Frank asked.   
  


"Because you're the Punisher, why else?"  
  


Frank immediately closed his mouth and stared at the cab driver.

_Shit…_

"Mr. Lockley, you must be mistaken…" Red tried to back him up on the accusation.

Lockley waved a hand. "Trust me, I'm not; I've seen many faces in my life and _his_ face is one that no one can never forget. Well… except in your case, Mr. Murdock." 

"Alright, then let me ask you this: are you Moon Knight?" Red asked as the grip on his cane tightened. "Last time I recalled, there were plenty of sightings of Punisher and Moon Knight going around alongside Daredevil. Since you claim he warned you ahead of time of who was going to ride in your cab today, I'm guessing you already know what's happening then."

Lockley gave out another laugh again and Frank tried his best not to punch his stupid, smug face. "Moon Knight's a close… friend, of mine. I've known him for a long time, almost as long as the streets here. I've picked up a lot of things here and there, from people to information. Information that you and Punisher here definitely need." He turned into one of the tunnels that led down to the docks. "I have a feeling I know who _you_ are," Lockley said carefully towards Red. "But as crazy as it sounds, I've dealt with things far more ludicrous than my little assumption. I could be right, I could be wrong, but from how you two are holding up, I think my guess is correct then." 

_Who the hell does this bastard think he is?_ Frank thought as he took a glance at Red. He could tell the other man had nothing else to say after what Lockley had just told them. The grip on his cane had tightened so much his knuckles had turned white.   
  


Frank cleared his throat to deviate Lockley's attention away from Red. "Well, since we're getting real comfortable around each other already, you wanna tell us why you drove us down to the docks?" 

Lockley parked at a corner near one of the abandoned warehouses that surrounded the docks, then nodded and motioned a thumb towards the windshield, giving the signal for Frank to pay attention. On his side, Red lowered the window so that he could lean over a bit and listen. Across from them were a few parked vehicles, mostly large pickup trucks with crates in the back. From what Frank could tell, the area was practically empty, until he noticed the furrowed brows from Red. "What are you picking up?" he whispered. 

"There's about four people in the warehouse across from us," Red said quietly. "Only one of them is speaking—an older man, from what I can tell. The other three are just listening to him."

"What are they saying?"

"He's giving them instructions on transporting artillery and explosives to a storage location. He's also referring to them by some sort of… nickname? Code names, maybe? Probably aliases to keep their identities hidden." 

Frank nodded. He kept his eyes on both the trucks and Lockley, who had his grip on the wheel tight. He also had his focus on the building from what Frank could tell. 

"What else, Red?" 

"Their boss said something about a plan happening next week. He mentioned Hell's Angels so I'm guessing it's going to be another gang war," Red informed him. "He wants to set them up for something—he's not exactly saying what, but the other three seem to know what's going to happen."

It could be another set-up for all they knew. Frank assumed that the Unspoken were doing everything they could to get the news to focus only on the gangs and not them. With the mention of artillery and explosives, it was going to be a bloody week if they didn't put a stop to it soon. "How did you know they were going to be here?" he asked Lockley. 

"I'm a cab driver, I pick up a lot of people with a lot of faces," Lockley answered. "Some of them with secrets written all over them, some with a method of hiding in plain sight. I keep my attention quiet while they would ask me to drop off at the most mundane locations, or places that would make any sane person ask why the hell they would want to go there in the first place."

"So you've been keeping track of them too?" Red asked. 

Lockley snapped his fingers towards him. "You're damn right I have."

"And this is just one of their locations," Red responded as he leaned away to listen again. "They have other meeting grounds to discuss shipment, but their main location is somewhere… past Brooklyn Bridge. That's all the older man mentioned."

A lot of locations were past Brooklyn Bridge, but at least they had an idea of where to start investigating. "Do you know any other locations?" Frank asked Lockley again. 

"Only a few in mind, such as the areas where the Undertakers and the Hellhounds reside, but other than that…" Lockley just shrugged as he started up the cab again. "Maybe it's something you and Moon Knight should discuss." 

"... Right." 

It was better to check out the docks later during night time. 

On the drive back towards the shopping mall, Lockley had turned up the radio slightly for music to fill in the cab. Frank guessed he did that just so that there wouldn't be more awkward silences. "So, now that we got real cozy with each other, I wouldn't mind dropping you two off again if it ever came to that. Especially if you ever give me a call."

"You do have useful information." Red decided to humor him. 

"And you got an awfully impressive hearing," Lockley said casually. "I already know Punisher's name here, but what about you? Mind introducing yourself to good ol' Jake Lockley?'

Oh great, here we go.

Red gave out a small sigh before the grip on his cane loosened slightly. "Jonathan Grace."

"Jonathan huh? Mind if I call you Jack?" 

"I don't care." 

"Jack it is! I don't wanna call you Johnny, it'd be too confusing for me," Lockley said as his fingers tapped at the wheel. "I already know a Johnny. Well, _knew_ one…" 

The past tense almost felt like a wound from how Lockley said it. It almost made the two of them shift uncomfortably in their seats, and who could blame them? Everyone had lost someone in their life that day. Even during the aftermath, more lives were taken from the circumstances, whether it was from the disappearances or accidents created because of the gangs. Frank didn't bother to say any condolences, and neither did Red. The silence was enough to convey how each of them felt. 

"Shopping mall, right?" Lockley asked quietly. 

"Yeah, any of them is fine," Frank said. 

Lockley stopped right at the curb of the closest one and let out a small sigh. "Well… you two know how to reach me." 

"Thanks." 

Frank placed a few bills in Lockley's hand, which made the driver stare at him. "You don't gotta pay me; the ride's on the house." 

"Don't be an idiot, just accept the money and go," Frank grunted as Red also voiced his thanks. 

Lockley grinned at him. "Alright Frankie, thanks." 

Before Frank could say anything, Red had already grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cab. After the door slammed shut, Lockley drove off, leaving the two alone at the front of the shopping mall. "... That went well, I guess," Red said as he held onto Frank's arm and tapped his cane. Right, back to being civilians. They made their way into the mall swiftly with Frank having to guide Red around a few areas. He knew Red was perfectly capable of handling himself, but to keep up appearances, he stuck close to his side. Frank couldn't help but enjoy this. He enjoyed it very much, actually, and even though there were a few people around them, it still felt like it was just them. 

"Found a clothing store," Frank said and Red nodded at him. 

"Lead the way." 

They entered the almost empty store. It held a gloomy atmosphere throughout the area. Even though it had been months since the aftermath, a few places still suffered from a decrease in sales. While Red went through the shirt racks, Frank picked out a few pants and jackets to take. He wasn't particularly picky about fabric, unlike a certain someone he knew, but he did focus more on the color and overall aesthetic. Neither Frank nor Red wanted to stand out in public, and with the last resort in mind, it was best to get something that would blend in well at night.

"Mind telling me what color this shirt is?" Red asked him, holding up the shirt in question.

"It's navy blue. Most of the colors on that rack are dark blue and gray. A couple of them are black too." 

"Are they plain?" 

"Yeah, the majority of them are," Frank mentioned as he looked at the rest. "Only the ones on your far right have logos and boring stripes." 

"You're not a fan of stripes?" Red asked, his lips almost forming a smile. 

"Not really," Frank said as he checked the sizes on a few shirts. "By the way, those are mediums and larges you’ve picked out."

"Oh good, I was going to ask you about that."

Now Frank got curious. "Who helped you pick out your clothes? Is it easier to have someone with you when you're filling your wardrobe?" 

Red folded up the shirts. "Yeah, it's easier. I've bought clothes before on my own and usually one of the associates would help me out. Foggy and I always went together to shop for clothing back in college. Then, after Karen joined us in the firm, it became our own thing to do together." 

There it was again, that somber tone Red used whenever he brought up Karen and Nelson. He still missed them, and Frank didn't want to dive in too deep when it came to the past. Red had told him once that the two of them disappeared right in front of him. Even though Red couldn't see them, the idea of only hearing their panicked voices and disappearing heartbeats sounded far more terrifying than watching it all happen. 

Frank simply hummed and gathered his clothing picks before he helped out Red. It was probably for the best to end the conversation there and continue with what they had in mind. But Red proved him wrong about that when he moved over and grabbed a few pairs of pants, feeling the fabric and then handing them over to Frank. "What about these? I know they're regular jeans, but I need to know the size." 

Just like that, the rest of the day went by with the two of them picking out clothes and figuring out what to wear later on. They gathered enough to suffice for both casual and not so casual. Frank made sure to save the darker clothing for the last resort and noticed Red doing the same as well. They continued to revisit memories of their loved ones as they went through the shopping mall despite the grievances from earlier. Even after they had already bought what they needed, they still went down their own set of memory lane. Frank didn't mind it one bit, as it was another way to get to know Red better. 

This was all they were going to get before the hour went dark and they had to ready themselves for another mission. 

Especially since they had more information than before now thanks to a certain taxi driver. 

"Something about Jake Lockley doesn't sit right with me," Red said when they left the shopping mall. 

"What makes you say that?" 

"He seemed very familiar in a way that I couldn't figure out. I can't be completely sure yet since I've only met him once, but he's been telling the truth for the most part." 

"So do you think he's Moon Knight?" Frank asked quietly. 

Red had a conflicting look on his face, almost as if he was in between wanting to shrug or nod in agreement. "Maybe? He wasn't lying when he said Moon Knight was a close friend of his. At the same time, it could be his alias, but again, I'm not sure. They both have a weird heartbeat."

"How are their heartbeats weird?" 

"It's… hard to explain. But that doesn't matter really, what matters is that we have a way to gain more intel now and Lockley already trusts us. It's better than nothing." 

Frank nodded in agreement as they continued their walk. If they manage to get closer to both Lockley and Moon Knight, they would have a better chance at uncovering the Unspoken. Steven Grant was still in the back of Frank's mind, and he was an optional opportunity to take if they ever got the chance to speak with him. The wealthy upper class typically had ties with other corrupted people and businesses, and it could lead them to another path in stopping the Unspoken once and for all.   
  


Only time would tell at this point, and Frank knew they both had to play their cards right for it to happen.

  
  


* * *

The bitter chill from outside managed to jolt Frank awake and forced him to sit up on the couch. The emptiness that dragged out within the living room and the absence of building lights that came from each corner reminded him that he was in the Lieberman household. Those damn nightmares always drowned him in his sleep. He was glad that the cold winter that seeped through the windows had woken him up from it, just to spare him from seeing Maria's face in anguish again. 

The open folders with scattered files sat on the coffee table as he stretched lightly. Earlier, Frank had been reading through blueprints of a few locations past Brooklyn, from empty retail buildings to storage warehouses. After their interaction with Lockley, both Frank and Red had gone over to the docks again to explore and find anything they missed. Red had found a trail of sulfur that gave them enough clues to pinpoint a few locations, and with Moon Knight on their side, the three of them had made use of those clues. It had continued for the rest of the month until the snow began to fall from the sky and they had to layer up on clothes. 

It was uncomfortable to see snow again, especially when everyone would freeze at the sight of dust and ash. The cheery mood of the winter holidays passed by as if they were regular days of the month. Christmas went through quicker than a blink of an eye, and Red still didn't bother to go to Mass. People had tried to celebrate tradition, but it had only left an awful reminder of what could've been. Frank was used to the quiet. Red wasn't, but he’d tried to appreciate the fact that Frank gave a shit for once. They’d celebrated the holidays quietly in the Lieberman household with a few drinks and nothing else. The company had been enough for them. 

With the idea of company in mind, Frank noticed that the kitchen light had been turned on. He looked over from the couch to see Red with a glass of water and bedraggled hair (it was still getting longer). "Hey," Red said nonchalantly as he walked over towards the living room. "I heard you thrashing a bit on the couch. Are you alright?" 

He handed him the glass of water and Frank downed it without question. He hated waking up in the middle of the night with a parched throat, so it was thoughtful on Red's part. "Same dream again. It's nothing new." 

Red went to sit at the couch across from him after the glass was set down. He already knew what dream it was since Frank had told him before. "Do you uh, want anything to help you sleep better? I'm pretty sure Curtis left a few sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet." 

"No, I'm good, thanks," Frank said before he leaned back against the couch. "What about you? Don't tell me my thrashing woke you up." 

Red chuckled lightly. "No, I was already awake before that. I couldn't fall asleep so I stayed up for a bit and caught up with some reading." 

Frank hummed and waited for Red to continue, but it seemed like silence was the better response for now. At least it wasn't as awkward as before when they couldn't stand working alongside each other and didn't know what boundaries were. Frank wasn't sure if he could consider Red as a friend yet, but he was at the point where he wouldn't mind taking a bullet for him. 

  
Nothing ever stayed simple for him.   
  


"You know, the other night terrors I had always had something to do with the aftermath," Frank started slowly. "Even when it kept repeating itself in the same tone and pattern, it still wasn't a great time. I know each detail perfectly by now and it still haunts me." 

Red lifted his head slightly. "I don't think anyone can purposely forget the aftermath. I still have those horrible reminders in my dreams too." 

"It's nothing but dust and brimstone, and it's only gotten worse now that we're in late December." 

"I understand that too well." 

"And I appreciate that," Frank added. "I do; I'm not asking for you to be my shrink about it, but it's… nice to know that you're willing to listen."

"Of course. You've done the same for me." 

"Is that why you stuck around for so long?" Now Frank wanted to ask. He couldn't help but be curious about why this partnership had lasted this long. "You've had a lot of opportunities where you could've gone off on your own, especially since we still don't agree on a few things."

He almost caught Red off guard with that question. Almost. "I stayed because we work better this way, Frank. As much as we may disagree on one thing and another, this is the most progress we've ever done. Remember what you told me before: you had to make sure I didn't become a part of the chaos. The feeling's mutual if it was the other way around. Even though it was rough the first weeks since the aftermath, you still kept going. It reminded me that despite your methods, you're still trying to ease the pain within the city."

Frank didn't expect an answer like that, but at the same time, he was relieved that it was something mutual. Despite the bitterness they both encompassed, Red also gave a shit. And since the Unspoken was now at large and increasing by the minute, it was different compared to simple team-ups that could stop a couple of rogue gangs. They both had a set goal in mind, and it was better to tackle it together than on opposing sides. 

"And you still think we can continue this collaboration once we figure out what to do with the mission?" Frank asked. "You're still set on wanting to go undercover and I still think we should play it safe from the outside. We still haven't reached an agreement on this." 

Red frowned slightly as his face became pensive in thought. It always revolved back to the last resort, and hell, it had been on Frank's mind for too long now. He wanted an answer. 

"Then we keep trying,” Red said. “I don't know what I can do to convince you, and you're not going to talk me out of it either. People are still being taken and dying from the debris and we need to do _something_ about it. Something is better than nothing."  
  


If that was the case…

Then maybe neither one of them had a choice after all. 

Frank sighed as he ran through so many possibilities of everything going wrong. It was just how he was as a person. He always had to think about the pros and cons of everything while also strategizing the best plan for anything. The more they dove into this argument, the further apart they drifted. Everyone else seemed to lean towards the last resort and Frank had this uncomfortable feeling in his gut that something would go wrong.  
  


However, that was only the case if Red went in alone. 

And Frank wasn't fond of the idea of Red's corpse being a new aspect of his nightmares. 

"Do you really think that we can stop the Unspoken from the inside?" Frank asked again, a question he had asked before with an obvious doubt in his tone. Now, it was an actual question. He wanted to know how dedicated Red was to the idea. 

Red gave a small, stern nod with a determination clear in his answer. "We have the resources and information needed to do so. I truly believe that if we keep watching each other's backs… we can stop them."   
  


If that was it then...

Then fine. 

So be it. 

"... Alright," Frank finally said as if he held breath for too long. "I’d rather join you on this plan than let you go off on your own. Be glad I trust you enough to help you with this nutjob idea." 

Red revealed a tiny smile, a genuine one that held some sort of relief in it. Frank had to snuff out the feeling of wanting to see that smile more often. "Hey, for better or for worse. I haven't lost all faith in us yet so that should be a good sign."

Huh, that was an interesting choice of words.

"You’re gonna have to do that for the both of us," Frank responded with a grin as he laid back onto the couch. "I still think this plan will be a disaster."

Red mirrored him when he also decided to relax on his couch. "Then it's right up our alley."   
  


They stayed like that for the entire night. The cold silence was its comfort, and it distracted them from the dread that still hung over them. So much could go wrong, but only time would tell.

  
  


For better or for worse. 


	9. Weak Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this fic is not dead I swear.
> 
> School is a pain in the ass. The beta readers and I have been super busy with assignments throughout the entire semester so writing and beta reading took a while. I'm still writing this story so don't worry, there will be more chapters soon! I've been trying to finish up assignments earlier so that I can have time to write, but other than that, I am not giving up on this story and I still have a lot of motivation to write it. It's just school being an asshole to me lol. Since we're approaching the end of the semester, there's more work to be done, so updates on this fic will be really slow and I'm very sorry for that. Thank you for being so patient!
> 
> Huge thanks to the-friendly-editor, thisuserisgonesorry, and 4miez for beta reading this chapter!

IX

  
  
  


Everything about their reconnaissance could’ve gone a lot better if explosives weren't involved. 

Matt, Frank, and Moon Knight were supposed to stay put within the building in Brooklyn and investigate the meeting point between the three gangs. They had intel from Moon Knight that the three gangs planned on taking down the Unspoken by all means necessary. From there, the three of them had decided to meet up in an abandoned retail store to discuss their plan, so it was easy to infiltrate once they figured out the location. However, a surprise visit from the organization completely screwed over their chances, especially when they came in from every corner of the building. They also didn't expect the Unspoken to fight against the three gangs with dynamite. That was probably the reason why Matt smelled so much nitroglycerin in the air. 

Now Matt was desperately trying to find a way out of the building with both Frank and Moon Knight by his side. 

Moon Knight was bleeding out quickly while one of the members approached him with a sword. Not a knife, a god damn _sword._ Matt wondered why the hell someone would bring a sword to an ambush that revolved around explosives, but then he remembered that he lived in New York. Anything can happen. 

Matt had taken a few hits himself, and he could tell Frank wasn't doing too well with his limp. The air was stained with the smell of blood and sulfur, and it made Matt nauseous. 

They managed to find an emergency exit that hadn't been blocked off by debris and retreated through the back of the building. Moon Knight's heavy breathing wasn't a good sign at all, and he muttered aimlessly something about the Ancient Egyptian god, Khonshu.   
  


"The van is over here!" Frank led them back to the corner they had parked in. 

"No hospitals…" Moon Knight managed to say by the time he seated himself in the backseat. 

Matt sat next to him, his hands roaming around to find any openings. He grabbed washcloths and pressed them down onto the open wounds he found on Moon Knight’s torso. 

"Yeah, we know," Matt told him as the van started up. They drove away from the building as quickly as possible. 

The mission was a disaster, to say the least. The only good thing that came from it was their escape. Matt had made sure to leave some exits open for any of the gang members to escape, but a part of him had known that since they were up against the Unspoken, it could also lead to an unfortunate end. 

There wasn't anything else Matt could have done for them. 

Frank made a sharp turn towards the path that led them to the Lieberman household instead of Matt's apartment. It was the closest hideout they had, and they needed to fix up Moon Knight before he bled out. At this point, the hooded vigilante had already developed enough trust to let them help him, but Matt still allowed him to keep his identity a secret. He kept his suspicions of who was behind the mask to himself.  
  


By the time they had arrived at the house, Frank was already calling Curtis for aid. They entered through the garage to prevent any unwanted attention and they put Moon Knight in the guest room. After they had washed their hands, Frank got the first aid kit while Matt worked with scissors to cut away a few pieces of fabric. 

"Bastard got him around the waist," Frank said through gritted teeth. He grabbed the antiseptic. "I'll clean the wound. Check if he's got any other injuries."

"I'm fine, it's only a few scratches." Moon Knight muttered as he tried to move. 

Matt slowly pushed him back down on the bed and began to check his ribs. 

"You got a bruised rib here," Matt said when he heard his breath hitch slightly. Tough guy was trying to hide it. "And yeah, you do have a couple more cuts around your arms. Did you hit your head?" 

"Nah, not this time DD."

Well, at least he was being honest. 

Curtis came through just when Frank stood near the door to check for him. What they didn't expect was for Moon Knight's limo driver, Frenchie, to come as well. 

"Hey, uh, he told me he was a friend," Curtis said as Frank allowed them both inside. "Is that true?" 

"Yeah, you can trust him. Don't worry." Frank reassured him when a realization struck. "Wait—how the hell did you know where to find us?"

"Moon Knight signaled me through a small communicator that he keeps in his wrist," Frenchie explained. "Now if you don't mind, please show me where he is so that I can help him." 

"You're a medic, too?" Frank asked. 

"Of course, you need to know a lot of skills when you're drafted." 

Curtis huffed out a small, surprised laugh. "No kidding... you too?" 

Frenchie gave a small nod before he held out his hand towards Curtis. There was a slight pause of hesitation when he glanced over at both Frank and Matt, but then the man shrugged. "Jean-Paul Duchamp. You can call me Frenchie." 

Curtis returned the handshake with a warm smile. "Curtis Hoyle. Nice to meet you." 

"Likewise." 

Moon Knight's friend decided to trust them right then and there. Or maybe he decided to only trust Curtis. 

After Frenchie made his acquaintance, Matt showed him and Curtis upstairs. He stayed behind to let them do their job and not crowd the room further. When the pilot entered the room he was immediately greeted with a fond "Frenchie!" from the injured Moon Knight. 

"Don't you _Frenchie_ me," Frenchie scolded out loud before he whispered under his breath: "What have you gotten yourself into _this_ time, Marc?" 

Curtis may not have heard that, but Matt most certainly did. 

_Marc…_

Matt was confused again. 

Curtis stepped out from the room after a few minutes went by, carrying a small kit. "Are you and Frank injured, too? I noticed he had a limp." 

"Yeah, we took a few hits," Matt replied. He tilted his head to hear Moon Knight and Frenchie. So far, the pilot had already dressed the vigilante's wounds in bandages while he dozed off, and he didn't listen to anything else after that. "I got a few cuts and bruises, but Frank got shot in the leg. There's an exit wound, but he's been trying to hide his limping." 

"Of course, he would. Let's go and help him out." 

When Matt walked downstairs, he heard the hushed sound of Madani's voice close to Frank's ear. The phone wasn't on speaker and Frank was in a corner in the living room to have a private conversation with her. As much as Matt would love to give them privacy, he really can't help but hear it from across the area. Frank knew about Matt's heightened senses by now, anyway; he would've gone out of the house or called Madani another time to have a one-on-one talk with her. When Frank lifted his head, he beckoned at Matt with a nod, and that was when Matt realized that he only kept quiet because of everyone else in the house. He knew Matt was listening. He just didn't want anyone else to listen.   
  


"Are you sure you two are willing to do this? I know I agreed with the last resort, but it doesn't sound like you're up for it." Madani said quietly from the other end. 

"I told you, I'm fine with it now. It's not like we have any other option that can lead us somewhere better," Frank replied as he kept his voice low. 

"I have enough resources to get you fake papers and maybe find someone to help you out, other than that you're mostly on your own." Madani sighed. "Listen, we're all taking risks on this; I'm going behind protocol to help you and you’re putting everything on the line for this one mission, so I'm going to ask again: are you two sure about this? There's nothing wrong with backing out, you know." 

Matt knew Frank was staring at him when Madani asked the question again. Everything was on the line; but at the end of the day, it was no different than what they've always done as vigilantes. Daredevil and the Punisher were already classified as criminals, even back when the city considered them heroes. Now that no one had that mindset anymore, playing the role of a criminal working for a corrupt organization was another level of public threat. All that mattered now was stopping the Unspoken, finding the missing victims, and making sure A.I.M. had no more connections with them. Matt was reminded of the words "for better or for worse." He wasn't sure why he said that phrase before, but it felt necessary. As if he had said good luck in a meaningful way. 

Then again, they both had nothing left to lose. 

"I'm still going through with it," Matt said without any hesitation. "Whatever it takes." 

Frank nodded towards him before he spoke to Madani again. "There's no point in stopping the Devil when he's set on a mission. I'm the same way, so might as well go for it." 

Another sigh from Madani. "... Alright, then it's settled. Call me back when you're ready to plan.”

"You got it."

The phone call finished once Curtis began to descend the stairs with the first aid kit. "Sorry about that, Jean-Paul needed help on the bleeding. Your friend up there got sliced up pretty badly." 

"Yeah, there was a sword," Matt said nonchalantly. 

"... A sword," Curtis repeated slowly. " _Shit_ , don't tell me that ninja cult is back in town." 

"Nah, it ain't them. Someone just had a sword and Moon Knight was their first target," Frank added. 

"Well then, I guess you guys need to prepare yourself for that," Curtis said before he motioned Frank over. "You need help getting up the stairs? Daredevil here said your leg wasn't doing so well." 

"Couch here's just fine, Curt," Frank grunted. He finally moved from his spot in the living room corner and walked towards it. "Just grab a towel so that it doesn't get stained."

After retrieving a towel from the bathroom and a fresh new pair of gloves, Curtis got to work on the wound. Matt helped clean around the wound after removing the torn-off piece of white cloth that had been a part of Moon Knight's cape. Earlier, they ran out of spare fabric pieces in the truck and Moon Knight simply pulled out a switchblade to cut a piece of his cape off in one swift motion. It helped stop the bleeding on Frank's leg and Matt was grateful for the assistance. The other vigilante didn't hesitate whenever they asked for help now and Matt found that as progress when it came to showing trust. 

Curtis finished stitching up the wound and cleaned around it again. Matt handed him the bandage roll and Frank began to relax by the time the injury was covered up. "Your friends up there are holding up fine, but Moon Knight's resting up for the time being. How bad is this crazy organization getting?" 

"Pretty bad," Frank said as his calf got wrapped up in bandages. "It's only going to get worse from here on out." 

"And I'm assuming you guys got a plan, right?" Curtis eyed them both. "You don't have to tell me the entire plan, I just want to know that you two _are_ working on a plan." 

"We have a plan, and don't worry, we're going to start working on it very soon," Matt answered him. The sooner the better. 

"How is Moon Knight going to play into it?" 

"He's not, it's only going to be me and Frank."

" _Just_ you two?" Curtis asked with a faltering tone. "You plan on taking on these guys with only the two of you? Having three of you go at them already gave you enough trouble. I thought that was the whole point of trying to gain Moon Knight’s trust." 

Matt didn't expect Curtis to sound so concerned over the idea, especially when they hadn't explicitly told him what the plan was. Something told him that the ex-medic wouldn't be too keen on the idea of them playing the guise as criminals. 

"Curt, you don't gotta worry about it—"

"What do you mean I don't have to worry about it? Not even when your life is constantly on the line and I'm trying to help you from bleeding out?" Curtis demanded. He stood up from kneeling on the floor. "Listen, I get it, you don't want others to get involved, but these guys aren't like the old gangs or Billy's posse. I thought you were going to be better than that and get back-up from other vigilantes. I take back what I said earlier. Now I want to know what the hell you guys are planning if it's going to be just the two of you!" 

Matt shifted uncomfortably next to Frank, who went silent by the time Curtis told him to listen. He didn't blame Curtis for being so worried over the idea of them facing the Unspoken on their own. Matt realized that they'll probably have a harder time keeping contact with the others once they went undercover. Curtis was their friend, and it wasn't fair to him that they kept him in the dark about the last resort. 

Frank stayed quiet and Matt decided to be the one to speak up and tell Curtis the truth. After the explanation, Curtis was almost speechless, and not in a good way.   
  


"That… is _insane_. It's a completely dangerous and stupid plan, and… it's crazy! You can't be serious about this!"

"Sorry Curt, we are. We don't have much of a choice." Frank responded. 

"Are you _sure?_ You sure there isn't any other option?" 

"Trust me, I've tried to find a lot of other options and they all gave us more dead ends, more victims, and more innocent lives being taken," Frank added. "If you got an idea, be my guest." 

Curtis held his head for a minute before he ran his hands over his face. He was frustrated by the idea, and again, Matt didn't blame him one bit about it. 

"What screws me over about it is the fact that this plan came from _you,"_ Curtis pointed a finger towards Matt. He's never heard him sound so disappointed before. "You, out of all people, came up with this plan. And you're _okay_ with it?" 

Matt balked slightly. "Of course not! I'm not a fan of it either, but we're wasting too much time and we need to act quickly before the Unspoken get worse."

 _"Oh god, this organization already has a name..."_ He heard Curtis mutter under his breath before he kept going. "And you thought it was better to just go in while the rest of us watch from the sidelines?" 

"You said it yourself; it's a dangerous and stupid plan."

"The plan would be less dangerous and less stupid if you let us _help."_

"That's only gonna put you at risk," Frank said. "We only need a few more locations and information from Moon Knight and then it'll only be us two from there. Trust me, Curt, these assholes aren't playing around. They're worse than what we've faced before and I'm not gonna let you be one of their targets." 

"Do you think I'm careless? Do you think I'm _defenseless?"_ Curtis asked dangerously. 

"No, he didn't say you were. None of us said you were," Matt added quickly, trying to defend Frank's intentions. 

"True, but you clearly forgot the fact that I know how to watch people's backs," Curtis pointed at Frank before he continued. "You two aren't invincible. You still need help no matter what, and it'd be even more stupid if you both decide to push away the ones that are willing to help you." 

After Curtis made his final argument, Matt heard Frank sigh next to him, almost in a way of defeat. "You're one stubborn bastard, Curt. You know that?"

"So are you, Castle; if we keep ramming our heads against each other for too long then _nothing_ is gonna get done." 

During the three of them arguing, Matt didn't get to catch the newcomer who had taken the last few steps down the stairs. Moon Knight leaned against the wall at the railings with arms folded and a focused gaze behind a mask. "Sorry to interrupt—actually no, I'm _not_ sorry that I interrupted, especially after hearing about this _fun_ little plan you guys have been talking about so now, I'm interested."

  
Damn Moon Knight and his strange heartbeat…  
  


"Shouldn't you be resting?" Matt asked indignantly. 

"What are you, my dad? You don't need to worry about me _that_ much," Moon Knight said. "I've been through worse."

Who _hasn't_ these days? 

Matt rolled his eyes, despite the mask keeping his features hidden. "Alright, how much did you hear?" 

"Oh, the entire thing. And I must agree with Mr. Hoyle here. Your mission will only end in a lot of pain and misery if you don't have some backup." 

This was _not_ a part of the plan at all. 

Neither Matt nor Frank wanted them involved, especially since Moon Knight had made it clear beforehand that their nightly routines shouldn't bleed into each other. They only planned to have Moon Knight as a temporary partner and occasional ally for information. However, the other vigilante voiced his concerns to hide his desire to be a part of the last resort. It seemed almost everyone in the damn house knew about the plan. Frenchie was right behind the other vigilante and had been paying attention as well without saying a single word. Meanwhile, Curtis kept his glare towards the two of them, waiting for an answer. _Everyone_ waited for an answer, and they wanted that answer specifically from Daredevil.

It was supposed to be simple, but God decided to toy with Matt again with more lives thrown at him as punishment for turning his back on him again. 

More responsibilities. 

More _consequences._

"Red." 

Frank's voice sounded off to Matt when he tried to bring him back from his thoughts again. It was low, almost gentle as if he had coaxed him out of his head rather than ripped him from it. Now all of Matt's attention was on Frank and it was oddly welcoming...

"I think we need to reconsider the circumstances now," Frank told him as all eyes were focused on them. The Punisher now shared the anticipation with him. 

"Yeah, I guess we do," Matt finally acknowledged. The other two finally descended the stairs and entered the living room. Something told him that even if he tried to push them away, they'd somehow sneak their way back. Well, there was no turning back now. "And I think it's probably best if we tell Madani that she doesn't have to worry too much about the extra help…"

More responsibilities. More consequences. More useless attachments.

Despite the repercussions, Matt was almost grateful that they had people that cared about their lives on the line. 

Almost. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Fogwell's Gym still held up even after the months went by. Time gave small touches of age onto its walls and rust spread around the corners of equipment. New Year's went by with minimal celebration and winter finally ended by the time the city returned to schedule. Overall, with the new year introducing a monotone beginning, it reminded Matt about Fogwell's and how he had ignored it for too long. The last time Matt entered the gym dated back to the weeks during the aftermath. His state of grief led him to do whatever it took to strip him down into nothing but anger. He still had to keep his strength up to take down whoever dared to continue the chaos and spread fear through crime. Using the gym to keep himself together was probably a better coping mechanism than allowing alcohol to lull him to sleep. Then again, he never kept regular, healthy hours to do so in the first place. 

Matt developed a better routine and went back to Fogwell's during the afternoons or even at sunset. Today, he decided to show Frank the gym, since he had expressed the need for work-out plenty of times. Might as well take a break from the impending mission that loomed over them. 

"How old is this place?" Frank asked. He walked around the place, taking in the change of scenery. He stared at the punching bags, old equipment, and the boxing ring that hadn't been touched in weeks. It was dusty, and some of the paint peeled off at the corners of the walls. Some corners now sported a few cracks, but it still held itself up even after the years went by and time progressed without the gym. 

"It's been around before I was born, that's for sure," Matt answered as he wrapped his hands in tape. "My dad used to work out here."

Matt made sure to bring Frank into the gym before sunset so that there would be some sunlight to filter through the fogged-up windows. The darkness wouldn't be a problem for him of course, but Matt wasn't quite sure if any of the lights in the building was in working condition. 

Frank nodded as he went ahead and did a few stretches and warm-up routines. Then, he didn't move from his spot. Frank only stood still while his head kept turning as if he was reexamining the entire building again. Matt had been doing a few stretches to get warmed up as well. Once he was done, Frank unzipped his duffel bag to pull out a pair of gloves. 

"How about some sparring, Red? You and me, in the ring."

Well, he never expected that idea to come out of Frank's mouth. Then again, it's been a while since the two of them fought against each other physically. Now that they were friends, a few sparring sessions didn't sound like a bad idea at all.   
  


Huh. 

That's the first time Matt had ever referred to Frank as a friend. Albeit mentally.   
  


He was terrible at _not_ forming attachments.  
  


"Sure, let's just keep doing a few rounds on the punching bags as warm-up first," Matt suggested. 

Throughout their work-out, Matt didn't hold back on the bag and continued with his strikes. He silently paid attention to how Frank worked on his own, listening to how his footwork changed a few positions slightly and how he leveled his breathing properly. It's been a while for him—Matt can tell—but soon enough, Frank found a comfortable pace to work with. His muscles tightened and braced themselves at every punch. It was almost mesmerizing in a way that Matt couldn't ignore. Matt had to stop himself from getting distracted (again), so he went back into his rhythm. 

By the time the chains that held their punching bags rattled with enough ferocity, Matt pushed back the strands of hair that covered his face and turned to Frank. "Alright, I'm ready for the ring. You?" 

"You know it," Frank said. He reached into his pocket and tossed something towards Matt. He caught it effortlessly and felt the thin elastic of a hair tie. "Tie back that mane of yours before we step in the ring." 

Matt scoffed loudly, trying to hide the small smile that tugged his lips. "Come on, it's not _that_ bad."

"It's been covering your face left to right. It's gonna get in your way when you're sparring," Frank said before he pointed at him. "And don't make a blind joke, Red. It's not gonna bother your eyes, but I can tell that the strands are getting caught in your nose and mouth." 

Alright, that was fair. 

"Seriously, I thought you were gonna trim it down a bit," Frank added. 

"Well, I have to keep up the Jonathan Grace appearance, you know."

"Yeah, but Jonathan Grace had better-kept hair and a nice, tiny ponytail. Now you almost look like some hipster."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," Matt teased.  
  


_Wait a minute, did Frank just say he liked the ponytail?  
  
_

"At least I'm trimming it. Besides, I got a recognizable face, remember?" 

"Hmm, no, I can't recall." 

Frank groaned in frustration. "Just get in the damn ring." 

Matt complied with both keeping his hair into a ponytail, which he now realized that yes, he did let it grow out a bit too much now that it was past his shoulders, and stepped into the ring once he had his gloves on. "No blows at the head, alright? I forgot to bring headgear and mouth guards with me," Matt informed and Frank complied with the terms easily. 

After they had bumped their gloves together, they circled each other, waiting on who was going to strike first. Matt wanted to test out Frank's patience, mainly to develop a few predictions on where he was going to move. Also, it was another excuse to mess with him, so that was a plus. Frank decided to be the one to throw the first punch, but Matt evaded it and whirled around just in time to strike at him. Alright, _now_ their sparring session began.

They went back and forth with punches, blocks, and evades. Matt was light on his feet as he gave a few blows at Frank's sides, trying to find a weak spot. "Don't hold back, Frank," He reminded him as he pushed the other man back against the ropes. 

"You got it," Frank threw a jab around Matt's arm, forcing him to brace himself before he landed a strike at his chest. Frank packed a lot of strength in his attacks, but he still had himself exposed. They kept it as simple boxing for the beginning rounds before Matt decided to throw in a few kicks. Frank didn't complain about the new strategy and went with the punches. It made him use his entire body to attack while also forming new defensive positions. Soon enough, they created their tempo to work with while drenched in sweat and concentration. 

Matt enjoyed every single moment of it. 

He had almost forgotten how much freedom boxing gave him. 

With Frank in close range, filled with adrenaline and determination, he couldn't help but savor it. There was heat clawing inside his chest, and it felt painfully addictive.   
  


God, what the hell was happening to him…

 _Get a grip,_ Matt chided himself. He immediately regained his composure.

In one of the later rounds, Matt found an actual weak point that Frank had. It was when he decided to be an asshole and do a fancy leg sweep, purposely throwing Frank off his balance. He had hoped the other man would avoid it, but instead, it tipped him off and Matt managed to pin him against the ground. His hand pushed down on Frank's right clavicle specifically, slightly above the collarbone but farther away from his neck. Frank let out a grunt that almost sounded like he was in serious pain, but he sucked it up and gritted his teeth instead. 

"Christ, if you wanted to win so badly you could've just said so," Frank grunted, but he couldn't hide his grin. Not from Matt. 

There were a few strands of hair that managed to escape the hair tie. They dangled carelessly as sweat covered Matt's forehead. Something about Frank's weak point sparked a sense of dread that troubled him. Once Matt placed enough pressure on the spot, Frank couldn't get back up again. It was _painful_ to him, to the point where it made him vulnerable.   
  


"You alright, Matt?"  
  


Frank's strained voice practically woke Matt from his worry. Not only that, but it's been far too long since someone referred to him by his actual name. 

"Yeah, sorry, it's… you have to be more careful," Matt said. He eased off the pressure over the weak point. "I know I purposely tripped you and that was all on me, but you can't let anyone pin you down." 

Frank huffed lightly. "Don't gotta remind me about that; it's an old injury I got back then, it's why I always wear armor." Matt released his grip completely and offered a hand to help Frank get back up. 

"I understand. It's just something to keep in mind," Matt took his time with his words. "If we ever get caught by any Unspoken members, we have to be prepared." 

"That's why I suggested sparring in the first place," Frank said before he took off the gloves. "Madani managed to find the right people and places for a meeting with one of those scumbags, remember? We need all the training we can get."

Right. At least they had some additional help thanks to Curtis' insistence. Alongside that, there was Moon Knight, who started to get more comfortable around them. As if he was trying to open up a bit, which was… unexpected, to say the least, but it might be because Frenchie already trusted them with his name. The idea of the meeting date also loomed over them, knowing that soon enough, someone was going to introduce them to an Unspoken member. And that member was going to be their one-way ticket into getting inside the organization. 

It was only a matter of time before Madani gave them the complete date. They needed every opportunity they could achieve to be prepared, and that included periodically sparring at Fogwell's Gym.

"It's getting late, I'll drop you off at your apartment and we can discuss more plans tomorrow morning," Frank stated. 

"Of course; same time tomorrow for training, alright?"

"You know it." 

During the ride back, Matt listened to Frank's light drumming against the wheel and the 80's radio station playing the smooth classics. The streets almost sounded quiet for once and it paired itself with the soothing melody from the speakers. In Matt's mind, he kept the weak point in his memory, only so that he wouldn't strike there again when they have another sparring session.   
  


As long as Frank kept his armor on and his concentration steady, he should be fine. No one will discover it. 

Whether they liked it or not, the last resort was already in full swing. 


	10. Souls for Sale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, since I mentioned the slow updates from the last chapter, here is where I say the story will go on hiatus. I finished my semester but now I got the holidays to worry about and it's going to get busy for everyone. I'm currently writing the second arc of this story as the first arc is now complete. I'm guessing around mid-January, the second arc should be finished and the beta readers and I will have time to read over it and revise it before publishing. Thank you all so much for your patience and feedback, I really appreciate it. Happy holidays!
> 
> Many thanks to 4miez, Covarla, and thisuserisgonesorry for beta reading this chapter!

X

  
  


  
  


The first few specks of snow finally made an appearance around mid-winter. 

  
  


Frank had originally hoped they would arrive earlier around Christmas or even New Year's. However, those days went by with barely any celebration. The cold breeze brushed against his jacket, prompting him to adjust it for better warmth. The ground was covered in snow by the time everyone finished their vigil. 

One year had already gone by since the aftermath, and there was still enough sorrow to go around. The murals, shrines, and statues everyone placed around the country were respected in honor of those lives. Many people went out to clean the shrines or replace the dead bouquets and dried up candles. Even though half the population disappeared in the spring, Frank wasn't one to judge. They have a right to mourn their loved ones, and Frank knew their pain too well. 

Frank turned away from the vigils to continue his private mission. Red told him earlier that he'll be at the Lieberman household after work. It wasn't a problem for the ex-marine since he didn't have anything else to do other than obtaining more information. The building he stood on was a regular market that sat across from one of the offices owned by Steven Grant. Lockley had given him a few hints on possible locations that Unspoken members may use for meetings or weapon smuggling, and Grant's building was one of them. He waited on top of the rooftop and kept his eye on the scope until the sound of a cape getting caught in the wind grabbed his attention. 

"The hell are you doing here?" 

Frank already knew that Moon Knight was behind him without the need to turn around. It's like the guy didn't even try to be subtle. 

"I could ask you the same thing," Moon Knight said. He walked over and knelt next to him. "Especially since you're staring at an empty building."

"Your pal Lockley gave me a tip about this building," Frank grunted. "Thought you would've known by now."

"Oh I do, and I know Grant too if that helps with anything."

 _So they were connected then._ "Is that where you get all the limos and gadgets? Grant's your buddy?"

Moon Knight shifted almost uncomfortably. "I guess you could say that; I've known Steven since childhood." 

From the research Frank had done earlier, Steven Grant's activity began to die down during the aftermath. Then again, so did a lot of millionaires and other rich scumbags, so that wasn't surprising. 

"Well, is Lockley right about this building, or was he talking shit?"

"He had a suspicion, but we just have to wait and see if you find anything," Moon Knight said before he changed the subject. "So what happened with the date of the meeting? You already got everything prepared?" 

Frank almost winced at the question, but he toughened up and nodded. "We're ready to go. We just have to make sure we don't screw up our first impressions."

Last week, Madani told them the date for when they were going to meet with someone who had close ties with the Unspoken. Another criminal no less, and he doesn't have a clue on who it could be. However, he trusted Madani, so at least they had something to work with. Madani planned on calling them later tonight to reveal more details about where the meeting will be set up and who they're going to be introduced to. Frank couldn't wait any longer. By the time he finished packing up his gear, Red shot him a text to let him know he finished work. 

This was it then. 

"Well I'm sure you'll do just fine, _William,"_ Moon Knight replied. There was no way the bastard wasn't grinning underneath the mask. "Besides, you and _Samael_ will probably fit in without any problems."

Madani sent them their new fakes a couple of days ago. Both Frank and Red picked out their names for the undercover guises just so that Pete Castiglione and Jonathan Grace had no connections. When they meet up with the criminal, they'll be Willaim Grotto and Samael Chaste (Seriously, what the hell was with Red and biblical names?). 

"You're so sure about this, huh?" Frank asked. 

"Aren't you?"

"I didn't expect you to accept the mission so easily. We had to convince you twice to just help us and now you're all ride-or-die," Frank said, remembering the awful car chase that came beforehand. "What changed your mind? I thought we were supposed to keep our missions separate." 

With the question in the air, Moon Knight stared at him as if the words became tangible. Frank had one suspicion, but even he wasn't so sure about it. He wanted to hear what the so-called moon avatar had to say. More so, he wanted to know if there were any motives behind his willingness. Before Frank could ask him another question, Moon Knight started laughing. 

"Why? I thought you and your buddy already knew why," Moon Knight said. "Come on, Castle, how long have we worked together? It's been a couple of months now. Why would I _not_ trust you? And Frenchie already told you his real name. That's _rare_ coming from him, and if he trusts you, then I can trust you too." 

That's right. 

The pilot didn't even ask for names back either when he revealed his own. 

"Huh, guess you're right about that," Frank said before he picked up the duffel bag. "So just like that, you're committed to helping us." He added, stating it more like a fact than a question. 

Moon Knight shrugged again. "I have to trust you one way or the other. Besides, I'm not fond of the idea of you and DD's bodies being discovered by investigators if everything goes wrong. That won't sit too well with me."

Frank shouldn't be surprised by a response like that. It may have taken months for Red to come around and trust him, but that was just Red being… Red. Here, Moon Knight was an outsider who got caught up in a web of mayhem, even though Frank was the one who had pushed him into it. "Pretty weird start for trust if you ask me. Especially since we practically forced you to help us."

"You didn't force me, you _convinced_ me," Moon Knight said lightly. "Besides, even if I said no I felt like DD was gonna hunt me down or something." 

Now that got a laugh from Frank. 

"Yeah, I'm not sure about that one. But he would've convinced me to help him hunt you down." 

After their little chit-chat, Frank went to take the stairs to call it in. Before he opened the door, he turned to Moon Knight, who stared at Grant's building. "You know, Madani is going to give us a call tonight about the meeting address."

"I've heard."

"Do you… want to come over to the house? She already knows we got more help. Curtis will be there to listen in as well. I don't think you or Frenchie would wanna miss it."

"Oh, I get to hear this Madani person you and DD always talk to? What an honor," Moon Knight jabbed before he walked on over towards the ledge. "So you want me to meet you there or…?"

"Relax, I'll give you a ride," Frank rolled his eyes before he opened the door. "I already deal with one fancy back-flipping vigilante, I don't need another one." 

"Oh, so DD's fancy now?" There he goes again with the teasing. Such an asshole. 

"Shut up or you're walking." 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The sun was completely gone by the time the two of them arrived at the house. 

Red, Curtis, and Frenchie were already waiting in the living room. The soft flicker from the lights made Frank question why Red wasn't wearing his mask. The other man had enough time to change out of his work clothes and into the black outfit, so Frank wondered why he didn't do that. Red had been so stringent about keeping his real identity and disability hidden, now he decided that it didn't matter anymore. But then the realization came to Frank almost faster than the questions did. 

It was all about trust.

Red trusted them by now. Of course, he did. Altar boy finally gave up the need to hide his identity and can now face them without the damn mask. It was a reminder of how much progress they'd made over the few months of knowing one another. Not only that, Red kept his eyelids low— as if he was tired— and blinked more often than usual. 

He was trying to hide the obvious.

"Hey there," Moon Knight greeted casually before he turned to Frenchie. "Sorry for the short notice, Frenchie. It was kinda last minute."

"It's alright," Frenchie said. "All that matters is that we're all here."

"We're all ready to listen to the mission details too," Curtis added.

The question about the mask was never asked, so Red walked over to where Frank was and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ready to call her?" 

"Yeah, let's get started."

The phone took a couple of rings to go through, but eventually, Madani answered the call and was placed on speaker immediately. "Alright, I'm going to assume everyone is here, so whoever is willing to write everything down, I highly recommend you do it." 

Madani was always quick and straight to the point. 

"You two will be meeting up with a woman named Sheoke Sanada. She typically goes by her alias, 'Snapdragon', and she will have everything you need before she introduces you to one of the Unspoken. I have the address here so pay attention." 

While Curtis and Frenchie began to write down the address details, Frank noticed Moon Knight went still at the mention of this Snapdragon woman. Even Frenchie had a look of concern plastered all over his face as he made note of the location. Now that was interesting on both parts. 

Madani continued to list off anything they might expect from their meeting, pausing for a brief moment to answer any questions. 

"What makes you think Ms. Sanada is a good choice for this?" Red asked. He always had to be a lawyer about everything. 

"I found Ms. Sanada through a few case files and reports given to me from before. She has been making herself present under our surveillance. Some of her followers have close ties with suspected Unspoken members as well, so there's a plus."

"And how do you know you can trust her?" This time it was Moon Knight that spoke up. "I've dealt with Snapdragon in the past and she isn't someone you can put your trust in. One way or another, she will probably use these two for her gain."

He knew it. Of course, Moon Knight recognized her somehow. These other costumed vigilantes needed to work on their subtly for sure. Especially when they weren't completely silent about it. Until now, that is. 

"Well, you don't need to worry about that because there's a reason why I chose her: Snapdragon has been trying to hide under the radar for so long, she's been desperate to look for an outlet. I already promised her a way out of the country, so if she tries anything, she'll lose her chances." 

"So you're gonna help out criminals now, huh?" Frank asked. 

"Oh please, as if this isn't what you and Daredevil are doing now," Madani groaned before continuing. "Besides, even after she finishes the job, she still isn't going to be let off so easily. Snapdragon will only help you once and then after that, you won't be seeing her again." 

Frank took another glance at Moon Knight, noticing how the other man wanted to say something else. But he quickly decided not to and backed down, which was almost a bit uncharacteristic for him to do so. If it's one thing Frank had learned throughout the whole collaboration with Moon Knight, it was that he's just as stubborn as Red. Ironically, the two of them get along perfectly well because of that. 

"Does anyone have anything else to say?" Madani asked dryly, and the entire room went quiet. They had what they needed with information, and even Red didn't bother to ask any more questions. "Alright, then it's settled; you two know what you have to do and where to start. I'll leave you to it." The phone call ended with a small beep and everyone still stayed silent. 

Once Madani's words etched in their minds completely, Curtis cleared his throat to prompt an open discussion. "Listen, I think that we should come up with a plan to approach the meeting a lot better. I suggest that one of us, or even the three of us, could watch your backs from afar in case something goes wrong." 

"Something could go wrong if Snapdragon is involved…" Frenchie muttered. 

Red frowned at the comment. "I'm not sure if we'll let you risk yourselves like that, Curtis. There's always the possibility of other Unspoken members joining us in the meeting, and some of them have powers. There's the risk of one of them finding out."

"So then we will deal with it," Moon Knight said. "Even if there were other members, we'll make sure to stay hidden. I'm sure neither of us is going to stand back and let you two deal with Snapdragon and other Unspoken members by yourselves. There's a reason why all three of us insisted on helping you two, remember?"

Right. 

"Yeah, we know, we just need to approach this more carefully," Frank stepped in, trying to keep the situation under control before it escalated out of proportion. "Right, Red?" 

Red closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah, that's right." 

Frank nodded. "Right then, so you two—" he looked over at Moon Knight and Frenchie. "— If you have anything else to tell us about Snapdragon, now would be a good time." 

From there, Moon Knight revealed every bit of information he knew about Snapdragon and the location they were going to meet. The address was between a few abandoned subway stations and alongside a couple of run-down buildings. Frank knew the location was going to be completely inconspicuous and away from any busy streets. It was in one of those corners in Brooklyn that no one would ever look into. No one except random PIs, graffiti artists, and taxi drivers, but they would be the least of their problems.

Speaking of taxi drivers… from how Moon Knight explained every detail, it almost sounded as if he were a taxi driver. As if he had seen it all through _his_ own eyes rather than his buddy Lockley passing on the information. 

He remembered something Red told him about the two. Something about their heartbeats being distinct in a way that wasn't quite normal, yet still maintaining strange similarities. Frank had already assumed that Jake Lockley was Moon Knight's real identity, but Red had better chances to solve that mystery than him. So if the Devil was confused… then that answer was out the window. And what drove Frank to question it, even more, was the new information on locations that didn't sound like it came from a taxi driver. Rather, it sounded like it came from the perspective of someone with more power. Someone who could easily listen in on other high-class snobs and their gossip by being in the same room as them. 

There was no point in avoiding this. Frank had to ask:

"How the hell do you know all of this? This doesn't sound like you got it from a messenger."

Moon Knight almost sounded confused. _Almost._ "What do you mean?" 

"You're wording everything as if you were there when it happened," Frank continued. "It would make sense if you said Grant and Lockley told you all of this intel, but you're saying it as if _you_ were in their places."

" _Frank…_ " Red said his name slowly like it was a warning.

Frank did stop when Red intervened, but he kept his gaze locked on Moon Knight, who went quiet from the accusation. They were genuine questions that needed answers, especially considering what they were going to deal with within a few days. Maybe Red overstepped a bit. Maybe Moon Knight wasn't ready to reveal himself just yet and maybe he needed more time—

"It's because I _am_ Steven Grant and Jake Lockley."  
  


— Or he could just tell the truth without any hesitation. Well, at least that mystery concluded. 

"Really? That's how you were going to tell them?" Frenchie asked, clearly unimpressed. "I thought you were going to do a lot better than that." 

"What did you want me to do? _Lie?"_ Moon Knight argued. "DD would call me out on it!" 

"You were planning on telling us before?" Red asked, almost stuttering. "And you know about my heightened senses?" 

"Of course I was, and yes, I do know about that. It wasn't that hard to figure out after I put the pieces together." 

"So then… you know I can hear everything around me," Red said cautiously. 

"That's right, Jack."

Frank wasn't sure how far this revelation was expanding, but eventually, Red began to confess a few instances where he had heard Moon Knight and Frenchie speak in private whenever they took refuge in the house. The times where Moon Knight was injured or even when he spoke to Frenchie on the phone were never meant to have eavesdropped upon, but that was something Red couldn't avoid. However, the other vigilante didn't take any offense to it, especially since he had known this entire time. 

Eventually, Moon Knight decided to completely come clean. He lowered the hood and took off the mask to reveal his face: Dark brown hair, brown eyes, a bandage over the bridge of his nose, and a thin, long scar right over his left eye.

"My name is Marc Spector; I guess you already knew that since you've heard it before, but yeah. Now you know for sure," Moon— _Marc Spector,_ told them. "There's a whole other thing I have with Khonshu and the moon itself, but maybe I'll save that for another time." 

"Well then, it's nice to officially meet you," Red said softly before he added: "My name isn't Jonathan Grace; that was just another alias I used. My real name is Matthew Murdock."

"Huh, I knew that name rang a bell somewhere. You were Castle's lawyer!" Spector stated as if a lightbulb flashed over his head. "Well, nice to officially meet you too, Matt. Lockley's still gonna call you Jack though." 

"But you're Lockley?" 

"Yes, I am…" Spector said, this time with a similar hesitation from his previous statement. Frank noticed it when Spector blurted out the truth earlier, but something about this situation felt familiar. It was something Frank had seen before. He gave a glance at Curtis— who had stayed quiet throughout the entire conversation— and yeah, he probably had the same assumption as he did. They both came across a few vets with a similar case that Spector had, especially since he didn't refer to Grant and Lockley as aliases. Curt was putting two and two together, and Frank had a feeling about what they were both thinking. Even Frenchie went quiet and kept his eyes lowered, which meant that he knew as well. 

"Hey, it's okay, we understand what you're saying," Frank immediately stepped in. He placed a hand on Red's shoulder to get him to listen. "No judgment here. Right, Red?" 

His steady hold on Red's shoulder helped convey the message loud and clear. "Yeah, of course. Thank you for telling us, Marc." 

Spector gave a relieved smile as he walked over to shake Red's outstretched hand. Something told Frank that these two were going to develop a strange, but supportive, friendship. But hey, that was just a gut feeling. Spector then furrowed his brows, before he took a few steps around while he kept his gaze towards Red. What was he doing? It almost looked as if he was testing out something. As if he were seeing if Red could…

No— if Red's _eyes_ could track him.   
  


_Shit..._

"... You know, I think you could get away with passing as a sighted person," Spector said. "You can move your head just fine, but you have to let your eyes move with it." 

Frank was flabbergasted. He didn't know if he should laugh or not say anything, but holy shit. 

And Red's face sold it for him. "You're… you're not surprised that I'm blind?" 

Spector shrugged. "Do you want me to be? I mean, I've seen you handle yourself before—and you're one tough bastard, I'll give you that. I'm not going to think you're _helpless."_

Huh, well there was that. 

"Funny, Frank here pretty much said the same thing when he found out…" Red said, almost beaming at the compliment. 

"I knew there was something about you that I couldn't put my finger on," Frenchie chuckled lightly. "And here I thought the lights in this house were acting up a bit." 

"Yeah, well, the cat's out of the bag now." 

"I'm glad we all got to know each other a little better now," Curtis said as he clapped his hands together. "Marc, Frenchie, we've got to come up with a plan to keep ourselves hidden when these two go in for their meeting."

Frenchie nodded. "Agreed, and I may have a few ideas that we can use…"

While the three of them began to jot down ideas, Frank decided now would be the best time to talk to Red alone. The other three were still trying to formulate what to do, so Frank tapped Red's shoulders and motioned for him to follow him. Curtis didn't call him out for it, but he did give a quick nod of approval. They went down into the basement, the voices of the other three already becoming further away as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Micro's vacant workspace helped maintain their focus on each other for the time being.   
  


"What's on your mind, Frank?"  
  


"A lot of things, but, this whole plan in general," Frank began. Christ, why does he suddenly feel so anxious right now? It's just Red, he's talked to him alone plenty of times before. "Listen, I'm going to take Spector's word and keep an eye on Snapdragon. If she does try to pull something, I can send a signal over to Madani and let her take over the entire operation."

"Frank, we're still not exactly sure how this is going to happen," Red said. "It's good that you're trusting Marc and taking the precautions, but that's why we have them to look out for us. We have to keep our focus on the main mission. Besides, I don't think Snapdragon will do anything against us."

"How are you so certain about that?" 

"You heard what Madani said earlier: Snapdragon has a lot on the line. Any mistake she makes, even the tiniest one, can take away her chances of escaping for good. But hey, I could be wrong." 

Frank smiled at that. "Yeah, but I trust your word on it too." 

After a quick pause, Red finally asked the question that hung over his head when Spector explained himself. "So… about Marc Spector. What exactly did you understand from him? I have a feeling on what it is, but…" 

Right, maybe it wasn't so clear since Red didn't notice the invisible confirmation between Frank and Curtis. And maybe he didn't want to make assumptions either. "I have to ask Curt about this later since he knows a bit more than me, but I'm pretty sure Spector has DID." 

"Dissociative Identity Disorder?" 

"That's the one," Frank confirmed. "But don't take my word for it; the way Spector talked about Grant and Lockley like that… they're not just simple aliases."

"They're probably his alters," Red said quietly before noticing Frank's stare. "I had a few clients that have DID; I learned a lot about mental health and dissociation during that time." 

Frank shouldn't be too surprised about the idea of Red's knowledge of certain mental disorders. Red was a good guy; a small-time lawyer like him must've dealt with a lot of cases for those who suffered mental disorders and trauma. It made Frank respect him a lot more, especially looking back at the memory when Red and Nelson tried to help him with his trial. That memory felt so distant now, especially with how far the two of them had gone with this collaboration of theirs.   
  


"Frank? You alright? You spaced out for a minute there."

Frank blinked. "Huh? Yeah, sorry I was just thinking, is all. This whole thing with Spector. It's probably better to ask the man himself. Right now, we still need to work out a plan for the mission." 

"That's what those three are up to right now," Red said casually. "Might be best to join them and help with planning." 

"Yeah yeah, you don't gotta be a smartass about it," Frank grunted, but the smile on his face didn't leave just yet. 

Red gave him a grin in return. "Sorry, it's my job. Someone's gotta do it." 

There were no arguments there, especially when Frank was able to see Red smile again. Those became rare ever since they started this whole mess, and now Red didn't feel so shy in expressing them. Frank realized that he's starting to _like_ those kinds of smiles. Especially when they're genuine and sweet—Wait _what_? 

Where did _that_ come from? 

Oh god.

What the hell was Matt Murdock doing to him? 

  
  


Frank needed to get himself together.   
  


"Glad that you've accepted your title, but yeah, let's go back up there and help them out." 

From there, they left the basement and joined the group when Spector motioned them over to hear the plan they had come up with. 

Frank started to feel a little more relieved. 

  
  
  


* * *

Not a single person was out that night when they entered some empty construction site, untouched by man and probably older than any other building that surrounded it. 

Frank tugged at his jacket lightly so that it wouldn't get caught by a stray metal beam. Red was right beside him, wearing the dark, burgundy jacket Frank found at a thrift shop a few days ago. The hood attached to it kept Red's gaze hidden, and the loose strands of hair that dangled over his face helped the image tremendously. They walked towards the end of the abandoned site, making sure that everything was according to plan.   
  


Above them, Spector's helicopter (which could turn invisible) hovered. The engines were completely silent to Frank's ears, but Red told him before that he was able to hear a very soft humming sound if he focused on it long enough. Either way, Frank knew that Curtis, Spector, and Frenchie were safe from their position. They had their backs.

Once they reached the end of the pit, Frank stopped at the corner and waited. Red was still next to him and listened for anything that came across his radar sense. 

"Are they close?" Frank asked under his breath. 

"I hear a couple of footsteps coming our way. A few of them are lighter than others, but I think three people are coming," Red informed in a whisper. 

They didn't have to wait long before Frank spotted an Asian woman with dark hair and a blade close to her hip stepping forward. Behind her were two men wearing heavy jackets and gun holsters. They didn't wear the typically gray with dark markings outfit that the Unspoken usually wore, so they had to be Snapdragon's bodyguards.   
  


"William Grotto?" 

"That's me," Frank grunted. "Are you Snapdragon?" 

"The one and only," Snapdragon smiled before she snapped her fingers. One of her guards pulled out a flash drive and handed it over to Frank, her smile disappearing in an instant. "That flash drive contains all the encoded files of what the Unspoken is working on. Locations, allies, you name it. One of their members will be arriving very shortly so keep that to yourself and do not speak a word about it."

Frank held the flash drive for a moment before Snapdragon glared at him, and he had to do what she said before her hand wavered too close to the sword. He tucked it into his pocket and nodded. Message loud and clear. 

Red suddenly turned his head towards one of the empty corners, and that almost prompted Frank to do the same. He had guessed Snapdragon didn't notice because a few seconds later a voice was heard from behind the broken wall. 

"Is it too late to make an appearance?"   
  


Snapdragon's eyes widened at the sound of the voice, but she hid her surprise. "No, of course not; you're just in time." 

A figure stepped out from the corner, which revealed itself to be a pale man that wore a dark gray biker suit with the familiar etched markings. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with silver-gray hair and a warm smile. "Wonderful! Oh, where are my manners? Hello, it is so good to meet you two finally!" The enthusiasm from this kid sounded unorthodox, especially considering he was a member of the Unspoken. "My name is Smokescreen— well, obviously not my _actual_ name. It's an alias, but everyone in the organization goes by an alias so that no one will track us down. I help run the organization and I'm happy to recruit you two as our newest members." 

Fuck, this scumbag wasn't just a member, he's a goddamn _leader._ And from how he worded it, he wasn't the only one. 

"Snapdragon has told me many things about you two, isn't that right?" Smokescreen grinned obnoxiously. 

Snapdragon nodded stiffly. "Yes, you will see that these two will be perfect additions to the organization." 

"I'll take your word for it!" Smokescreen said cheerfully before he continued. "Well then, we've been needing some extra hands around the organization for a while and I have a feeling you two will help us out swimmingly. I'll give you the address where to meet for initiation and from there you'll be a part of the team." Why the hell did this asshole sound like he was some pretentious counselor at a summer camp? 

"Sounds good to us," Red told him gruffly and Frank simply hummed in agreement. 

Smokescreen nodded before he continued to tell them a few more details about the location. With that said and done, he clapped his hands together and gave another infuriating smile. "Perfect! I can't wait to see you two there. I'll alert my two associates at the meeting and from there we'll see how it all turns out. See you at initiation!" 

After a quick briefing, Smokescreen snapped his fingers and created a fog that covered the area. It was painfully opaque and it barely gave a trace of sight. However, as quickly as it started, the fog disappeared and Smokescreen was nowhere to be found. 

Of course, the asshole's alias and power were related to each other. 

That's it. Once the entire mission was over, Frank was going to kill Smokescreen first. 

Snapdragon glanced at them before she nodded. "You better let your boss know I held up my end of the deal." With that said, she took her leave. She didn't bother to look back and they didn't bother to follow her either. They were alone again in an empty construction site that said nothing in return. 

The meeting was over, and Frank felt like this mission was already going to end in disaster, one way or another. 

  
  


There was no turning back now. 

  
  



	11. Enter the Illusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! I have a lot of time on my hands to write this story and update it. This second arc is going to get lengthy. It's also going to be extremely wack and all over the place in terms of plot and other things so I'm sorry for that. Marvel comics am I right?
> 
> Mentions of kidnapping tw
> 
> Many thanks to artsy_hoe for beta reading this chapter!

XI

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Initiation wasn't as bad as Matt originally thought it would be. 

It would be added to the list of concerns the Unspoken created, especially when initiation was nothing but simple trials. How he and Frank got into the organization was far too easy. 

  
  


It was midnight, and they were finally near Governor's Island. The Unspoken had chosen to set up their main operation inside a dead factory amid vacant warehouses. Everything about the site only spelled out danger for anyone that came across it. There were broken metal beams and shrapnel left over from the nearby junkyard, and they were placed perfectly just for the sole purpose of warding off any unwanted guests. Alongside the pungent smell that came from said junkyard, no one in their right mind would ever try to trespass here. No wonder they chose this dump for their headquarters; it was perfect for them. 

The Unspoken was much larger than Matt had initially predicted. During initiation, they finally met the ones that were in charge of the entire organization. Smokescreen was already acquainted with them, thanks to their first meeting, so they got to meet the other two leaders known as Animus and Eyesore. Animus was a lean, physically fit woman who displayed a brash attitude and never hesitated to speak her mind. Eyesore was an older man, far older than the other two, and was probably the same older man Matt heard back when they investigated the docks with Lockley. He kept quiet throughout the entire introduction until he gave them their aliases. Something about the older man didn't feel right, but this was an organization with cult-like behaviors they were dealing with. The aliases were _apparently_ extremely necessary, even within the main location as well, so of course, Matt and Frank received their very own codenames as well. Frank was now known as _'Revenant,’_ and Matt was given the name _'Infrared_.'

Madani was right; the Unspoken had some ridiculous aliases.   
  


They decided to take a quick tour around the place after they had settled in. Various people were doing different tasks that ranged from handling weapons to gathering information on the other gangs. Meanwhile, others were casually lounging around near the factory, as if they were waiting for one of the leaders to give them an assignment. 

Matt kept himself close to Frank as they continued their exploration around the area. So far, there weren't any signs of human trafficking storages within the factory itself nor outside of it. It was almost surprising that the Unspoken headquarters didn't have the victims they'd kidnapped, but they had other locations. Other locations that Matt needed to uncover soon before the organization slips under the radar. The flash drive Snapdragon gave them was a start on where to go and gave them a good overview of populated areas, but it needed more information on specific locations. It was like a puzzle missing various essential pieces. 

While they walked around, Matt had noticed a few members turning their heads, focusing their gazes on them. Frank had mentioned earlier that they were attracting attention. They're newcomers, after all. It wouldn't be surprising for any of the residents to be curious. It unnerved Matt either way, especially when they were trying to keep a low profile. 

"I guess we should split up for now," Frank whispered next to him. They stopped around one of the smaller warehouses by the time they finished their tour. "What do you say?"

"Meet you back here at this spot?" Matt asked. 

"Sure thing." 

Once they went in different directions, Matt felt the tension around him simmer down slowly. The glances weren't as much as earlier, but Matt still needed to find a way to blend in better. The sound of wooden crates being opened and the smell of rust came in when he approached the docks. A group of Unspoken members was already at the scene when they handled the crates with crowbars and chains. 

_"Hey, mind giving us a hand?"_

Matt turned to the voice that came from his right. Someone was opening one of the crates and beckoned Matt over. So much for keeping a low profile. "Uhh… sure." 

Time to blend in. 

"Thanks, man. Hey, you happen to have super strength by any chance?" The person asked him. "It would be effortless to open these crates without these shitty crowbars." 

"No, sorry," Matt said. 

"Shame, some of the super freaks are busy with some other grunt work, but we'll make do," The stranger pushed away from the wooden lid and handed one of the crowbars to Matt. "Here, just help me open up the crates." 

The off-comment of superpowered beings rubbed Matt the wrong way, but he didn’t want to say anything about it. They both had a job to do, and he needed to blend in. Opening up a few boxes that held illegal weapon shipments was just another Tuesday night for these guys. 

"Heard anything from Eyesore?" The other person helping the stranger asked. 

"Nothing so far, Vice; I think we're waiting on Animus right now. I'm sure Eyesore will tell us what to do soon." Stranger said. 

Matt stayed quiet while the two of them continued talking. He paid attention to every detail they mentioned about the Unspoken leaders and important locations in Brooklyn. During the conversation, Matt noticed that the other guy, Vice, sounded almost on edge. Something about the way he shook slightly whenever he moved a muscle or stuttered at the mention of Eyesore's name. Matt assumed the other man was probably sick or taking drugs, but from how fast Vice's heart was beating, it sounded more like he was on the verge of a panic attack. 

"Is Eyesore here?" Vice asked anxiously. 

The stranger shook his head. "No, it's just Animus. Relax, pal." 

From there, they went back to work. Matt moved around a few of the equipment and passed them over to the Stranger. They didn't mention anything about the victims’ locations, but something about the way Eyesore was mentioned throughout the entire conversation gave Matt an unsettling feeling. He would have to pay more attention to Eyesore later on. For now, his radar expanded, and he heard Animus within the factory already giving out orders to recruit people for the missions. Inside the factory was Frank's heartbeat, which stood out completely within the crowd and old machinery. Huh. He had the same idea. 

When Matt entered the factory, he maneuvered himself quickly through the crowd, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. He followed Frank's heartbeat and found him in the corner where there were fewer people clustered around. 

"Hey there," Matt said. 

"Oh, uh hey," Frank said, almost awkwardly. "I guess you heard Animus assigning missions too." 

Matt chuckled softly. "Yeah, it looks like we don't have to meet back at the warehouse." 

"So you're up for a mission?" Frank asked.

"If we're picked, then it'll help us blend in," Matt said, despite not being a fan of the idea. However, that was the whole point of this undercover mission, after all.

Before Frank could say anything, the crowd began to quiet down when Animus entered the factory. Right behind her was the smell of vintage leather and tobacco. It was Eyesore. Matt was bombarded with multiple emotions that came off from everyone inside. Excitement, anticipation, curiosity, envy, and fear. Fear was the most prominent from the crowd. 

"Good, everyone's settled down," Animus spoke first, her grin audible as she looked around. "Now, you assholes can hear what I'm about to say. Let's get started."   
  


The briefing was quick and simple in terms of the end goal: destroy gang property and take their supplies. Both Matt and Frank were assigned on the same team to stir up trouble in Manhattan with Hell's Angels. They followed their group over to a box truck, where two people were at the front while Matt, Frank, and a few others hitched a ride in the cargo area. It was difficult to pinpoint where they were going for the first half of the ride, but Frank stood close to him near the walls. Frank must’ve noticed him trying to figure out the location and try to strike up a small group conversation. Only a couple of the group members managed to give them the location of a pub in east Manhattan. They mentioned Hell’s Angels members meeting up there tonight, and with their truck disguised as a delivery truck, it made it easier to blend in the streets. 

Destroying property damage wasn't something Matt wanted to do, but he didn't want to look suspicious in front of the group. So they had to go with whatever the group did to fulfill the mission. Four of the group members began wreaking havoc at the pub entrance, while Matt, Frank, and the rest of the group went through the back. Frank knocked out a few bodyguards with the end of his shotgun and led the others inside. 

"Their cargo should be downstairs in the basement. Who’ll stay here and do a look-out?" One of their teammates asked. 

"I'll stay here," Frank said. He gave one glance at Matt before he got into position. "If any of them come around, I'll give out a signal." 

The angry shouts from the Hell's Angels began to sound more and more aggressive when Matt went into the basement with the others. He tried to hear out anything that could be related to the kidnapped victims. He wasn't sure if Hell's Angels would know their locations, but they had to be here for _something_ , right?

Everything else after the basement raid happened in a blur. All they did was pick up the cargo the gang stored and loaded it up in the truck. Matt wanted to find more clues, but all he could find were broken crates and a few empty flasks. He was expecting something else to happen, something that can give him clues. But then he heard Frank's voice break through the chorus of shouts: 

"They're leaving the pub. We're being told to trash the place and take everything they got up here." 

Despite the hushed voice, Matt was able to hear Frank. He wanted to go back upstairs to ask for more details—for more _answers_ about this mission's purpose. One of Matt's teammates tugged at his arm and beckoned him to follow. 

"We're done here. Let’s get going," they said. 

After the damage had been done, and they were back inside the truck, Matt felt Frank lean next to him. With all the questions bouncing back and forth in his head, Matt tuned them out for a moment, just to hear what Frank had to say. They were in a farther corner of the truck, and the shuffling of cargo made enough noise to cover Frank's whispers. 

"Remember, this is just our first mission. We still need more time to get answers…"

As much as he wanted to do more— as much as the Devil inside wanted him to break through and go into overdrive for a search— Matt had to accept the truth of the matter. This was their first mission. Of course, there wouldn't be anything completely life-changing happen in just one night. A part of Matt had hoped it would be tonight, but he had to accept the fact that until then, he and Frank were stuck with typical grunt work. 

Police sirens echoed and bounced off the truck’s steel walls as they went in the direction of the pub. The group was already driving away from the pub and kept up the food delivery disguise. Surprisingly, Frank's steady heartbeat managed to distract Matt enough to ease his attention from the sirens. Their teammates didn't bother striking up conversations, so Matt had to settle with Frank's presence next to him. He wasn't sure if that should disturb him or not, but it was better than dwelling on the ambush they had performed earlier.   
  


It was just their first night. 

There will be more like this one eventually. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Being an attorney during the day and a vigilante at night, in the beginning, was already a hassle before for Matt. 

Now he had a daily life and _two-night_ lives, one being more criminal than the other. 

Juggling between three lives created a strain on Matt's mind. It was probably affecting Frank since he was doing the same thing as well. Nonetheless, they had their main mission set into place, and as they progressed with more work for the Unspoken, they were closer to getting the information they needed. However, it was a pain in the ass to be chasing after the organization _and_ be a part of it at the same time.

Throughout the weeks they reported back to the factory, Matt had noticed various streams of recruits coming in and out from other parts of the city. They either acted like the typical goon that any mobster would hire, or they had no personality to them— as if they were drones whose identities had been stripped away from the beginning. It was strange, almost downright ominous on how these newcomers would behave. The only times they would ever perk up and show some emotion was when the Unspoken leaders were around. Matt kept himself at a distance whenever he interacted with any of the leaders. Matt made sure to keep his head lowered under his hood and be around other people, just to avoid being caught alone. It was all about blending in with the crowd; he wanted to appear as insignificant as possible. However, Matt must've not been trying hard enough to achieve that purpose because one of the Unspoken leaders was starting to pay more attention to him than usual. 

And it had to be Eyesore out of all of them.   
  


Anywhere Matt was, Eyesore was within the same area far behind him. Matt tried to lower the chances of him and Eyesore being within proximity of each other, but no matter what he did, Eyesore was always there. The older man played it subtle, of course, always in the background working on something or talking to another leader. There were times where Eyesore's footsteps would sound as if they were approaching Matt's direction until Matt would either leave the area entirely or whenever he went to find Frank. 

Frank became a great anchor these days. 

The sounds from the factory and junkyard would bombard Matt's senses every so often. No matter how much he tried to focus on something else, Matt couldn't shake off the awful smell of the junkyard and the claustrophobic roars that came from the working machinery inside the factory. There was a time where Eyesore's footsteps and cheap cologne was the only thing that helped distract Matt away from the cacophony of the headquarters. Until a familiar, comforting heartbeat entered the fray, guiding Matt away from the ambiguous man and towards someone he can trust. 

"Everything alright?" Frank would ask, and from there, Eyesore's footsteps came to a stop before receding.

It was easy to tell when Frank was worried, despite the other man's stoic appearance. Frank was good at hiding his emotions, but Matt had known this man for over a year now; it was starting to become relatively easy to detect. So Matt would place a hand on Frank's arm for a quick pause before telling him, "I'm good. Let's get out of here for a bit, yeah?" 

It worked every time, and Matt couldn't help but stray away from their responsibilities just for some temporary peace. 

Even with Eyesore's presence leaving a bad feeling in his gut and a lingering dread, he couldn't quite place it yet. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The Unspoken was starting to gain more attention than ever before.   
  


The name given by agents in Madani's field managed to leak out into the media, and now everyone can place a title over the obscure organization. It was all because a few authority figures began to mention the Unspoken and announced their hunt for them.   
  


And also, because Jessica Jones was officially on the case.   
  


Matt didn't doubt that Jessica was already working on a few cases that were about the Unspoken. People were going missing every day, and everyone was trying to seek help at this point, especially from one of the best Private Investigators in Hell's Kitchen. There were multiple reports from Unspoken members that a woman with super strength had been interrupting their raids for the past couple of weeks. 

It wasn't great timing for Matt and Frank's parts.

After a couple of weeks of more grunt work, Matt finally found some leads to where they were keeping some of the victims. The human ones were held up in warehouses in Bay Ridge and Crown Heights. As for the mutant and inhuman ones, he wasn't sure where their exact locations were. They could be spread all over Brooklyn or could in a completely different part of New York. 

Frank had been trying to get more information with the group of Unspoken members he managed to make acquaintances with over the small poker table inside the headquarters. Meanwhile, Matt had been trying to focus his hearing on whatever information the Unspoken leaders would spill whenever they had their private meetings with each other. The only member allowed inside the meetings was a man known as Foreshadow, who was always around Animus. It was rare for him to _not_ be at Animus' side, as if he were her guard dog. Either way, Matt decided to pay close attention to him as well. 

There was also the issue of the suicides that were still happening within the Unspoken. Due to the cult-like behaviors that the Unspoken already displayed, Matt assumed the main reason was fear of giving up secrets. Fear of torture or even fear of failure. The members who are always filled with paranoia were a concerning issue, especially when a few of them are here one day and are completely gone the next. No one would speak about their disappearances, and the leaders never brought it up. Matt wanted to find out the _real_ reason behind them, not just sit there and guess what the outcomes must've been. Again, he had to pay more attention to both the leaders and his teammates. 

For now, Matt needed to continue playing the role of Infrared. 

They were finally getting somewhere with the information they obtained. Everything from the flash drive began to make sense once they received the intel. It connected the dots on any missing pieces. The human victims’ locations were sent to Madani to send out teams to rescue them. Matt shared the information with Marc so that he and Frenchie can help as well. With progress being made and people being saved, Jessica Jones was a surprise. She had made appearances in a few gang raids just to do her part in stopping the chaos. Sometimes Matt and Frank were there; sometimes they weren't. Matt didn't want to deal with a confrontation any time soon. So when he was on a mission with them, he easily found a way out for Unspoken members to escape.   
  


Until one night, it wasn't as easy as Matt had originally thought it would be. 

"She's nearby," Matt said when he went behind the broken walls, right next to Frank. 

Frank kept an eye out for the others as they tried to squeeze through the shattered hallways of an abandoned art museum. "You gotta be kidding me. Where is she, Red?"

"I can hear her walking on the roof," Matt tilted his head slightly, hearing not one but _two_ sets of footsteps. "And she's not alone either."

"Then we need to get moving," Frank grabbed his gear. "Sol said one of the fire exits is closer to the garages, and it has less damage done to it. Let's get a move on before Jones breaks through the ceiling or something."

Matt shook his head. "No, her friend knows about the exits. They're talking right now on what to do, and the other person is suggesting the exits." 

"Then what the hell do we do? I don't suppose you know any other exits that aren't covered in rubble." 

"No, but I have an idea, and I don't think you'll like it."

Frank sighed. "What is it?"

"We're going to have to be a distraction," Matt said. "We can let them chase us down and away from the Unspoken members. As much as I wouldn't mind our so-called teammates getting their asses kicked by Jessica, we still need to keep up our guises as loyal agents." 

"God damn it…" Frank muttered under his breath. He went to the entrance of one of the hallways to call out to Sol, telling him and the others to keep making their way out of the building and leave the rest to them. After the warning, Matt heard Sol lead the group towards the exit. Frank was back at his side again. "Alright, how are we gonna do this?" 

Thankfully, Jessica did _not_ jump through the ceiling above them, but she did break one of the side windows. Matt knew she immediately caught sight of them from the sound of her whispering curses the second she turned her head. They were making their way out the other side of the museum, being as obvious as possible by breaking the side windows and making their escape there. It was a sloppy escape, but it worked well as a distraction. Matt helped Frank land onto the nearby rooftop and tried to keep his hood and bandana secured as they ran. Frank had recently gotten them bandanas to cover their faces better, and with the dark atmosphere of nighttime, it should make them more obscure. 

"She's starting to go back the other way," Matt warned. "Her friend is nearby; we can lose them around the corner of 38th street."

One of the next-door buildings was close to the rooftop they were at. Matt took the opportunity of the fire escapes that the other building provided and climbed onto one. Frank followed suit behind him. Jessica's heartbeat was still far enough to assure Matt that she wouldn't be nearby anytime soon, but her friend's heartbeat was getting close. Their heartbeat was bouncing off here and there as if they were doing some crazy gymnastics. Matt kept track of the Unspoken group they broke off from, who had already reached the garage by the time Matt and Frank escaped the building. Good, at least Jessica wasn't going after their group. 

For now. 

They went down the fire escape without any trouble and ran behind the building. Matt sensed a subway station down the street, with barely anyone in it. Unfortunately, they were still wearing their Unspoken outfits, and Matt didn't want to draw attention to themselves once they got on the metro. So taking a train ride was out of the question. 

"Let's go through the alleyway," Frank suggested. "I know a shortcut."   
  


The alleyway was dark enough for them to blend in easily since there were no flickering lights above them. The area they were in had been abandoned ever since the aftermath, and it gave them the perfect getaway to pull off.

Almost perfect. 

Matt was so focused on making sure Jessica was still far behind that he had forgotten about her friend. A few bits of gravel falling from the rooftop should've been a warning sign for Matt, as Jessica's friend leaped down from the ledge to land on their feet.   
  


Right in front of them.   
  


_What the hell?_

Before Matt could process what happened, the newcomer— a woman with swift reflexes— immediately went in for the attack. Frank tried to intervene, but the woman evaded him swiftly, punched his gut, and swiped him off his feet with her foot. After Frank fell in pain, the woman dashed forward to tackle Matt to the ground, but he knew how to evade an attack as well. While Matt had his heightened senses, his opponent had a pure prediction. She knew how to block and dodge his punches. It almost gave Matt some difficulty for once, but this wasn't the time to indulge in a new sparring challenge. Instead, he lowered the woman's guard by ducking down and pulled the same move she did on Frank. Once she fell, Matt went to help Frank up. 

"Come on! We have to go!" 

Frank groaned when he was pulled up but kept his feet moving as Matt led him out of the alleyway and into a nearby parking lot. "She caught me by surprise."

"I know, she was faster than I expected," Matt said. "Are you okay?"

Frank nodded. "I'm fine. We just gotta get out of here and find the others. There should be an exit around here." 

Matt tried to pinpoint their group's location when he managed to get themselves as far away from the woman as possible. But instead of the sound of wheels skirting across gravel, the sound of labored breaths and a thundering heartbeat came into the field. And it didn't belong to the woman with fast reflexes. 

"Slow down, assholes. I’m not a fan of the whole cat and mouse chase." 

Jessica stood across from them, catching her breath quietly as she glared at the two of them. There weren't any flickering lights in the parking lot, from what Matt could tell. Most of them didn't work while only a couple were dim. He made sure to keep his eyes hidden under the hood. Frank regained himself once Jessica arrived, and his hand slowly wavered over the pistol in his holster. Matt knew Frank wasn't going to shoot Jessica, but a few shots fired in the air or at the ground can give them enough time for a distraction. 

"What were you two doing at the museum? And where's your little party?" 

A gunshot could draw too much attention to their location, so Matt went for the next best thing: he grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it at Jessica. 

It was stupid, but he knew it would work. Matt knew Jessica could avoid getting hit by it easily, but her ducking was enough to give them time to get the hell out of there. Frank followed him behind a few cars, and they ran out to the other exit. Suddenly, a car alarm went off right next to them, then another one, and then an entire chorus of sirens screamed one by one. Jessica was pissed, and she's showing it by slamming her fist against the hood of the cars near her as she approached them. She was also throwing a few rocks their way, and they were hitting more vehicles in the process. It was _terrible_ to Matt's ears, and it slowed him down briefly from how abrupt it was. 

"Shit, Red, it's okay, come on!" Frank hissed as he tried to drag Matt away from the uproar. "You're gonna be okay. We’re almost there." 

Frank's voice was the only thing that stood out from all the noise, and Matt desperately held onto it. Jessica was catching up on them fast, and she wanted a fight. The other woman was also making her way towards the parking lot. He had to _move._ Matt pushed through and started running alongside Frank, making their way towards the other exit. Before Frank could grab the gun, the screeching of tires added to the alarms, and a van was right in front of them. One of the doors slid open, and they were greeted with Sol's hand. "Hurry up!" 

Matt wasted no time and got himself inside; Frank followed him. One of their teammates peaked out quickly to throw something at Jessica— a smoke grenade, thank god— and immediately shut the door behind them. Their driver slammed the accelerator, and they were off just like that, with Jessica's coughing the last sound to join the car alarms. The ringing in Matt's ears slowly subsided once they were on the outskirts of the city. Frank kept his hand on Matt's shoulder the entire time, making sure he regained himself from the confrontation. Matt appreciated the gesture, but he had to keep his composure once Sol turned around.   
  


"Jesus, when you said you'd give a distraction, I didn't think it'd be a fucking show," Sol said. It almost sounded like he was complimenting them. "Glad you two did it. I would've just shot her to get it over with." 

Matt tried his best not to scowl at him. Frank must've noticed since his grip on his shoulder tightened a bit. 

"I'm guessing you figured out where we were from the car alarms?" Frank asked. 

"Well yeah, but also Foreshadow here figured out where you guys ran off to." Sol pointed over to where Foreshadow was, who happened to be at the passenger's seat. Shit, Matt had almost forgotten that Foreshadow was with them throughout this entire mission. Despite the drone silence that came from their usual teammates, Foreshadow held a reticent presence that was almost uncomfortable. The man was practically a ghost. Matt still needed to figure out the hell his deal was and how much he knew from the leaders. However, he had to play along, and he needed to be on Foreshadow's good side.

"... Thanks," Matt grunted. Frank also gave out a small acknowledgment. 

"Don't mention it." Foreshadow simply said. He stared at him for a minute, which felt longer than a minute should be, before turning his attention back to the road. 

The small crates filled with stolen artifacts shuttered next to them as the vehicle made a few turns. "What are we gonna do with these?" Frank asked. 

Sol shrugged casually. "Bosses said we're going to make a profit out of them. Something about a trade offer with a corporation in Latveria. Animus wanted us to get it done."

Matt took in the information given. It was something they would talk about to Madani later on. Something about Foreshadow's presence didn't sit right with him, but he didn't dwell on it too much once Frank's heartbeat began to settle down. It drew Matt away from Foreshadow and eased him. 

He had to keep it together. 

  
  
  


When they got back to the headquarters, Matt and Frank slipped away from the group once they helped unload the crates. The night dragged out for too long, and Matt was ready to hit the shower when he got back home. He did _not_ want to go through another crash from Jessica ever again. Matt was about to head back to the truck when Frank slowed down.  
  


"I gotta get one of the drum magazines real quick before I forget," Frank said as he held onto the keys. "You go ahead, I'll meet you there." 

"Alright, be careful," Matt said. 

"Will do." 

After Frank left, Matt made his way through the junkyard, trying everything he could not take in the smell. This was the fastest exit for them, and even though Matt still had the bandana covering his mouth and nose, the scent still managed to irritate his nostrils. 

Before he took another step, Matt heard a low, drawn-out whistle from behind him, as if it was announcing itself. The familiar footsteps that gave him unease came back, and the cheap cologne was enough to tell him who it was. 

"Infrared! Good to see you! Sorry to disturb you, but I had to catch up to you for something." Eyesore greeted, his rough voice commanding Matt's full attention on him. 

_Keep it together_. Matt reminded himself before asking, "What do you need, sir?" 

Eyesore chuckled, shaking his head as he got closer to Matt. "No need for the 'sir,’ I already get enough of that; anyway, Foreshadow told me about the little stunt you and Revenant pulled earlier. Didn’t know you had it in ya!” He was humoring him. “But you two managed to clear off that strong woman away from the museum. That’s good. I’m glad you did that.”

Matt only gave him a nod. 

“You’re real quiet, y’know that? Hell, a lot of members here are, but something about you and Revenant is real interesting. Especially Revenant, that man can use a gun better than any of the rest here,” Eyesore said. Matt felt that unsettling feeling again, especially when Eyesore was complimenting Frank. It didn’t feel right to him for some reason. This man wanted something, and he wanted something specifically from _Frank._ “Anyway, keep up the work, I guess. Been real nice talking with ya.” The older man held out something towards Matt. From the way Eyesore had his fingers around it, it was round and took up his palm. When Matt took it, he realized it was the drum magazine that Frank went back to look for. Matt immediately became skeptical, but he didn’t say anything. He only hummed at Eyesore in response. 

“When you see him, tell Revenant he shouldn’t be leaving his stuff around the storage rooms. Some of the newcomers love to go in there and loot whatever they can find,” Eyesore said. He turned around, quick on his heels, before his head perked up a bit. “Well… I guess ‘seeing’ him would be difficult for you, but you know what I mean. Still, pretty crazy how a blind man can do so much, but hey, I won’t judge. Secret’s safe with me, son.”

Matt’s body went cold.  
  


The sense of dread returned, spreading within him like a plague that paralyzed him at his feet.   
  


Eyesore continued walking away as if he didn’t just drop a bombshell of a revelation. As if he didn’t stun Matt in a way that brought out the worst possibility when the plan first originated. 

Eyesore knew.

_Eyesore knew._

Matt had thought the whole dyslexia excuse would be enough to trick the Unspoken leaders on his impaired vision, but it wasn’t enough to fly over Eyesore’s head. He knew. The bastard knew, and Matt was on the verge of panic because _Eyesore wasn’t supposed to know._ Even though he said he would keep the secret, it wasn’t enough to calm Matt down from a potential attack. He held onto the magazine as if his life depended on it. All he could do now was walk back to the truck in a numb state. Frank’s heartbeat wasn’t enough to calm him down, and when the other man finally reached the truck and asked what’s wrong, Matt didn’t say a word. He only gave Frank the magazine and entered the passenger seat once it was unlocked. 

  
  


It was going to be a long, quiet car ride.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Matt didn’t tell Frank about his meeting with Eyesore.  
  


No need to spread the freezing dread to Frank when the mission was still going.   
  


Frank was concerned, of course, but Matt told him that someone found the magazine and that he took it off their hands before they claimed it. A little white lie wasn’t going to hurt him, and it wasn’t going to haunt him for the next few days like the truth would.

They continued their lives as normal as could be, with their vigilante lives on one hand and their criminal disguises on the other. It was getting harder and harder to juggle so much, but there was progress, and Matt didn’t want to ruin progress. 

Eyesore continued to lurk around whenever Matt and Frank were in the area, and Matt noticed he typically enjoyed lurking in the areas where Frank usually was. Matt didn’t know what this man wanted, but he didn’t want to confront him just yet. Eyesore knew about his blindness, and Matt really, _really_ didn’t want him to find out about the undercover mission. He stayed away for now but kept a close guard around Frank, even when the other man doesn’t know he’s there. 

The news screamed of missing victims being found thanks to Moon Knight and official authorities. The undercover mission was _working_ , and hearing the Unspoken leaders getting riled up about it was the icing on the cake.

However, other obstacles loved to make their way through their plan— especially ones that were unshakeable. 

They ended the night with their vigilante selves, rescuing a few victims that were almost caught in the crossfire of a gang raid. A couple only suffered some injuries from shrapnel gashes while others were shaken up from the fight. But they were safe, and that’s all that mattered.

Matt’s apartment was the closest to stay put for the night. He hadn’t suffered any significant injuries either, just a few minor cuts and scrapes. Frank was also doing alright in terms of injuries, but Matt wanted to check his head since some asshole whacked him with a bat. As they approached the apartment building's roof entrance, Matt noticed that the window lock had been picked. He stopped Frank with his hand and tilted his head to hear anything amiss. There were sounds of furniture shuffling slightly and drawers being opened. Behind them, however, was the sound of footsteps running. 

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked quietly.

“Someone’s inside the apartment, and someone else is following us,” Matt said, motioning Frank to follow carefully. “The person inside is rummaging through the files, and I think it’s someone we may know already.”

“The hell do you mean by that?” Frank was reaching for the pistol on his hip.

Matt stopped his hand. “Not yet; instead of ‘Shoot first, ask later,’ let’s try asking first, yeah?”

Frank growled, but he complied with the idea. 

Matt led Frank around to another entrance to lose the person chasing them. They went up the stairs and through one of the empty hallways. The apartment building had been almost vacant since the aftermath, so Matt wasn’t worried about anyone seeing him running around with the Punisher. Once they approached the door, the rummaging stopped, and the person on the other side held their breath.   
  


He knew who was in his apartment. 

Matt gave Frank one final glance before he slowly unlocked the door and went inside. 

From there, Jessica Jones stood in the middle of his living room, arms crossed and shoulders tensed. She was pissed off, and she wasn’t planning on going anywhere any time soon.

“Hey there, assholes,” Jessica greeted. “I think it’s time we had a little talk.”  
  



	12. All Shall Scatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of kidnapping tw
> 
> Many thanks to artsy_hoe for beta reading this chapter!

XII

  
  
  
  
There were a lot of things that could've happened within the apartment. 

  
  


Many possibilities, such as the Unspoken finding their homes or some thief breaking in.   
  


Frank didn’t count on Jessica Jones to be one of those possibilities, but hey, it was better than a burglar at least.

Red stood there like a deer caught in headlights as Jessica waited for them to say something. Frank didn’t know what to do about the situation other than going with what Jessica asked. He made sure to put the pistol back in his holster before she got the wrong idea. That was step one. Step two was to appear as calm as possible and not look as bad as Red did. Although Red never looked terrible. He was shaken up, yeah, but not bad.

“... Hi Jessica.” Red greeted awkwardly. 

"Hello, Murdock," Jessica said. When she took a seat in the living room, Jessica crossed her arms. "I know this isn't the best way to come into someone's home, but are you gonna come to sit down and explain yourselves or what?" 

Before either of them could answer, the door slammed open, forcing them to turn around to greet the newcomer. Frank saw none other than the woman from the museum raid, her hands balled up in fists and her face determined for a showdown. 

"Alright Jess, I'm here to— wait, what's happening here?" She asked, her expression now replaced with confusion. 

"You're a little late there, Trish," Jessica said. 

Huh?

The woman— Trish, now that Frank knew her name— lowered her defensive stance. "I thought we were following a couple of bad guys!" 

"We _are_ following a couple of 'bad' guys," Jessica said before she sneered at Red. "Isn't that right, Murdock? They probably don't even refer to you by your real name, do they?" 

Red sighed as he took off the mask. "Jessica, listen, it's not what it looks like—"

"Oh, really? Because from what I can tell, you two are running around acting all friendly around the Unspeaking!" 

"It's the _Unspoken_ , Jess." Trish corrected. 

Jessica groaned. "Whatever, same shit." She then looked at Red again, realizing that the mask was off, and noticed the long hair. "Jesus, is that a hair tie? Do you two even know what a barbershop is?"

"Haircuts are the least of our problems right now," Frank said. 

"You're right because I'm still waiting for an answer," Jessica growled. 

"Wait, how did you even find out?" Red asked. 

Jessica rolled her eyes. "When you were fighting Trish the other night. She told me it was basically like 'fighting a ninja.’"

"You were outstanding, by the way," Trish interrupted. She earned herself a glare from Jessica when she commented. "Not that it mattered, but uh, yeah, I had a tough time fighting you." 

"From there, I thought: hey, that's really familiar! Who do I know that fights like a ninja…?" Jessica leaned forward from her seat. "And the little parking lot incident with all those alarms going off and you almost stumbling from it gave me an answer."

It was Frank's turn to ask. "How did you know that was us, huh? It was dark that night, and I don't recall you having any sort of night vision." 

Jessica pointed to Trish. "Trish can see in the dark." 

"I can see in the dark," Trish parroted.

"Can we ask _how_ you can see in the dark?" Frank asked.

"No."

Well then. 

"Maybe if you started explaining yourselves, then _maybe_ we can tell you," Jessica said. "But I was the one that asked first, so _talk._ " 

For once, Red didn't know what to say. Frank noticed how the other man went silent, despite Jessica waiting for an answer and Trish blocking the door. To be fair, there was a _lot_ to say about what they were doing with the Unspoken. It wasn't a simple answer that Jessica could take in. Hell, it was the most bizarre thing they'd ever done, and Red participated in blowing up Midland Circle with Jessica and the others. It couldn't get any crazier. 

Frank went over to where Red stood, placing a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of the trance. "Red, I don't think we got a choice other than telling the truth." 

Somehow, that seemed to bring Red back from his brief paralysis. He noticed Frank's hand on his shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, you're right." 

Once the two of them sat down across from Jessica, they started talking. Frank didn't expect them to speak for hours, but the whole night was him and Red explaining their plan. They told Jessica what they were doing, how it started, the progression; they told her everything. If there was one thing Frank knew, it was that making Jessica Jones your enemy was the _worst_ choice. It wasn't just her super-strength that scared them. It was her skills. Jessica was a top-notch PI, and all of Hell's Kitchen knew that well. Frank remembered suggesting Jessica as an ally before they went to Spector, but they went with Moon Knight after that little disagreement. Was it worth it? Yes. Marc Spector and his pal Frenchie were incredible with what they can do. Would they've still gone with the last resort if they went to Jessica? Most likely. The last resort was bound to happen, practically inevitable. It didn't matter how much information they got on the streets, and the last resort was going to happen one way or another. Now the outcome of their choices caught up with them. Frank sided with Red throughout all of it, even if Jessica disagreed with it. 

After the explanation, Jessica was resting her elbows on her thighs, pondering over every detail. Her hands covered her mouth, and her face was fixed into a pensive expression. Frank couldn't tell if Jessica was pissed off or confused or even both at this point. Trish was at her side, staring at the three of them, while the information was also processing in her head. The silence started to get uncomfortable with how much time they took, soaking it all in.

Finally, Jessica spoke up. "So let me get this straight… you two decided it was a great idea to go undercover as one of these deranged assholes and _work_ for them, just to gather intel?" 

"It's not _just_ intel, Jessica. We were finding the locations of the missing victims," Red said, almost defensively. "We found plenty of secluded areas all around the city where they were keeping them!"

"Oh yeah, I saw that on the news, real heroic," Jessica said snidely. "What screws me over is that you two _are working for them._ You're seriously risking everything you do for this stupid, crazy mission?" 

"We're not participating in the kidnappings if that's what you're so concerned about," Frank said. "The same goes for any of the vandalism." 

"But you're participating in the raids! You're letting these guys go around and do all this shit willingly!" Jessica said accusingly. She then glared at Red again. "What happened to your no-killing rule, Murdock? You just threw that away? Just like this one, decided to go along with your stupid plan?" Now she was accusing Frank too. 

Red scowled. "It's not like that. You _know_ it's not like that! Did you not listen to how much progress we're getting done? How many people we'd saved from these bastards? Their operations are being taken down from the inside _and_ out!" 

"Oh yeah, thanks to your new pal Moon Knight," Jessica snorted. "Seriously, what's up with that guy?"

"Is there a problem, Jessica?" Red asked, almost challenging her. "He's helped us a lot more than we can ever imagine."

"What? Was my intel not enough? You couldn't have just given me a call?"

"Like you would answer the phone." 

"Yeah, but at least I would've been smart enough not to go undercover so that I won't get killed!"

This was getting out of hand. 

"Alright, that's enough, both of you!" Trish spoke up loudly. "Nothing is getting done right now with you two yelling at each other." 

Frank couldn't agree more. "She's right; we're fighting the same enemy. You can be pissed at each other all you want, but right now, we have to realize we're on the same goddamn team." 

"Oh yeah, loving the team effort here," Jessica said sarcastically. 

"We're not going to stop with our mission, Jessica," Red said curtly. "We're already too deep into this, and there are still people we have to save." 

"You don't think I know that?" Jessica growled. "You don't think I went through my own headaches, trying to find more information about the Unspoken? I have so many clients coming to me, begging me to find their loved ones because that stupid organization continues to take people off the streets, from their _homes._ Trish and I searched everywhere for these victims and the scumbags, and here you are, with _Punisher_ out of all people, helping you with your fucked up mission." Jessica got up from her seat and walked over to the scattered files on the work desk. She motioned angrily towards them. 

"All this information, especially some of them from a _CIA agent,_ could've been really useful! Maybe your stupid last resort wouldn't have happened if you sucked up your pride and asked for help for once! The Unspoken would've been taken care of months ago if we just had our shit together!"

The atmosphere went still again once Jessica finished her rant. Frank was almost taken aback at how upset she sounded. He took another glance to the side. Judging by the raised eyebrows, Red was also surprised. The argument wasn't just about the two of them diving headfirst into unknown waters. It was about the lack of communication— no, the lack of _cooperation_. The frustration Jessica felt radiated throughout the entire room, and honestly, Frank didn't blame her for feeling that way. Fighting against the Unspoken from the outside was near impossible, and it only ended up with more critical questions and no answers. Maybe their findings would've been different if Frank had convinced Red more to go to Jessica for help. It would've saved all of them a lot of time and energy. 

"You're right." 

Wait, what? 

Frank's eyes darted back between Red and Jessica. Red relaxed completely, and his face changed from irritation to understanding. Jessica, on the other hand, was staring at him in disbelief. 

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, you're right," Red repeated. "All of this wouldn't have led to the last resort if we had just let you in on what was happening. I thought it would've been better for both of our ends. You typically work alone all the time, and I thought if Frank and I intruded with our problems, it would turn you away." 

Jessica scoffed. "I would've wanted that, you know. It could've saved me so much trouble."

Red sighed. "Yeah, I realized that now, and I realized how much this had affected all of our ends. For that, I'm sorry, Jessica."

"Don't," Jessica started. "I don't want an apology, and I never wanted one in the first place. I wanted answers, and I got them. I just—” 

She cut herself off before continuing, “I had to let that all out, I guess." She still sounded upset, but at least both ends calmed down. 

Frank didn't expect Red to be so… _considerate_ of Jessica's situation. He expected the other man to persist in claiming what they were doing was the right call and preach about how many lives they were saving. But Red proved him wrong, and Frank was glad he did. It was a sign of improvement and growth, after all. 

"So I guess it's all cleared up then?" Trish asked. 

"For the most part, I think so," Red answered. "There's still a lot we need to do, but now that we know who is doing what, maybe we can try to help each other out." 

"Wait a minute, are you saying we should work together? Now?" Jessica asked. 

"You don't have to, but I agree with what Red's trying to say," Frank said while getting up from his seat. "You're fighting against the Unspoken, too, so we can work something out to help the kidnapped victims and put an end to the chaos."

Red smiled at Frank, honest to god _smiled_ at him when he said that. He was grateful for the back-up. Frank was glad the lights from outside gave him enough to see it happen. It was nice having agreements with each other. 

"You gotta be kidding me, "Jessica groaned.

"Well, _I_ think it's a great idea to trade information and have more allies in this whole thing," Trish added. "We could use the help, Jess, and they also have Moon Knight on their side too. The more, the merrier." 

"Oh, come on, Trish. You can't be serious."

"You were just ranting about how these two didn't help you! Now they're offering their intel, and you're saying no?" 

"It's just, ugh, I didn't expect them to say yes and agree with me!" Jessica grumbled. "I'm still not over the fact they're working with the enemy, mission or not. Plus, Murdock threw a rock at me."

Red frowned. "I wasn't trying to hit you—"

Frank elbowed him and gave out an annoyed grunt. _Wrong answer, Red._  
  
"— But I'm sorry I did that." Red corrected himself. That was much better.

"Alright, enough with the apologies, geez. I'll get over it. It’s fine," Jessica said before she took out a notepad from her jacket. "I have all of my notes on the Unspoken here. Trish has a few notes saved on her phone." 

Speaking of Trish, Frank had to ask: "So is she the same Trish from Trish Talk?" 

Red gave him a look of confusion before Trish sighed. "Yes, I am; it's a long story, but maybe we can give that one a raincheck?" 

Frank shrugged. "Fine by me." 

"Also, the notes on my phone are pretty much the same as Jessica's written notes. I can turn on the screen reader option if you want, Mr. Murdock," Trish told Red, already unlocking her phone to set it up. 

Wait, how did she— Oh, right. Some of the files on the work desk had braille transcripts, and they were blatantly obvious. Red didn't even bother making up an excuse. All he could do was sigh. "You can send them to me on my phone. It’s fine." Frank had to hold back from laughing.

"Yeah, Jess already told me a few things about you and, of course, the notes on your desk." 

"It's fine," Red said abruptly before regaining himself. "I appreciate the accessibility offer, thank you." 

"Okay, now that we're all on the same page, can we get to work?" Jessica asked.

Frank nodded.

Right.  
  


Back to work. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Frank had gotten used to the slowly expanding team he and Red now had.   
  


After the night of the confrontation, they obtained an alternative perspective of the Unspoken via Jessica Jones and Trish Walker. Red provided them the locations they received throughout the entire mission, and Frank made copies of each detail Jessica shared with them. At one point in the night, Madani decided it was a great idea to call them in the middle of the briefing, so Frank and Red had to introduce Jessica and Trish to Madani. She didn't sound too happy about it, but then again, when did Madani ever sound satisfied? 

"Fine, whatever, as long as they're willing to share their intel, then I don't care," was what Madani said. 

Jessica and Trish were a part of the mission, despite Jessica's complaints about it being an insane plan. They worked with them more remotely, almost like how they interacted with Madani, but Jessica met them throughout their meetings. Frank told Curtis about their newest members to the "team,” while Red shared the news with Spector and Frenchie. Nights carried out the same, but now that they had more people helping them outside, Frank could focus more on the inside with the Unspoken. The same went for Red, with whatever he was doing inside the headquarters. During some nights, Red would go on his own into the Unspoken and do his kind of recon. Frank didn't question it at first. Red blended in very well within the group, and none of the Unspoken members bothered him or even noticed him. It was easy for Red to scan the room and listen to any little secret that slipped by. 

What worried Frank the most was how late Red arrived back at his apartment and the Lieberman household. 

The first few times it happened, Frank didn't pay any mind to it. The Unspoken typically worked late at night during their operations, and it wasn’t anything to worry about. However, it started to turn into a pattern the more Frank looked into it. There were times when he could've quickly gone with Red on whatever mission the leaders assigned him. Whenever Frank asked him about what was going on, Red would wave it off or give him a simple answer. 

"I'm noticing a few changes here and there around the factory. They might be changing the locations of where they're keeping the victims, so I'm just following a few groups around to find out more." Red told him, and it was always something about tracking down groups or something about the leaders. 

It was starting to annoy Frank with how vague the answers were each time, but soon enough, Jessica and Spector would follow up on more clues and save more victims. Madani connected a few dots with some gang raids and the locations they typically took place. She didn't want to say it was A.I.M., but… Franks suspected that it might lead up to that conclusion. Either way, the fact that Red provided little to no answers behind the lateness didn't sit right with Frank. Red had been acting strangely in a few nights here and there, especially when Frank brought up the leaders. 

"Don't worry about them too much, I know what I'm doing," Red would always say, and something about the way he said it made it sound as if he was defensive about it. That wasn't right. 

Something was up, and Red was keeping it to himself. 

Frank gave up on pushing for more answers. He did his part of the mission, which was already enough for everyone's ends. Still, the concern didn't go away. He decided to pay more attention to Red whenever they were out as their disguises. Which, to be fair, Frank wasn't going to complain. Something about the way Red puts on the dark and mysterious look whenever he's Infrared made Frank focus on him a little too much. The hood, bandana, and long hair combo gave an ominous presence that was a lot better than Daredevil's, in his opinion. Shit, Frank needed to quickly get rid of this weird development before becoming a part of the types of men he liked. As much as he loved the excuse of looking at Red all night, that didn't erase the fact that the other man was acting off. There were still more pressing matters at hand, as well. 

  
  


Frank knew he blended in within the Unspoken perfectly. A gunman recruited to do recon and shoot any gang member on sight? The leaders were thrilled when they learned about his skills. It was why he passed initiation so quickly. Both he and Red had skill sets that were useful to the Unspoken, and with those skill sets came tasks to fulfill. Within those tasks came cooperation, even if it was with scumbags. 

Frank kept himself hidden most of the time, but even his rough exterior didn’t discourage a couple of members from making acquaintances with him. Hell, a few of them invited him to poker at one of the small round tables. No matter how many times he said no, they still offered a spot for him. At one point, Frank decided to take up the offer and roll with it. Win a few rounds here and there. Act as if nothing was wrong. Playing poker was useful when it came to the mission. Frank got to pay attention to his teammates at the round table, along with eavesdropping on any conversation nearby. If only Red were around him more often. It would be great to have his super-hearing to obtain more answers. However, Red was still going off on his own. 

"Did you hear what happened to Vice?" One of the members across from Frank— Gunmetal was his alias, if he remembered correctly— began to spark up a conversation with a bit of gossip one night at the round table. 

"No, what happened?" Frank asked. 

"He failed in destroying the Hell Angels' base, and Eyesore chewed his ear off! He was so pissed." Gunmetal said, and Frank managed to catch a glimmer of fear in his eyes. "After that, no one has seen Vice since. A couple of people think Eyesore killed him or something, but eh, I doubt it." 

"What makes you say that?" Frank pressed as he shuffled the cards. 

"Eyesore barely goes around killing people like that, especially members. That sounds more like Animus' job or Foreshadow's," Gunmetal rolled his eyes as the game started. "Besides, Eyesore is always locked away in his office doing some shit, I dunno. He's always getting some people here and dragging them out for one-on-one talks. I think he trains them or something. Why kill your trainees after one mistake, y'know? Even Smokescreen doesn't do that."

That was a lot to take in. 

Frank now had a better idea of what kind of leader Eyesore was, especially when the mere mention of his name made people uncomfortable. 

A part of Frank suddenly made him panic quickly. It made him ponder over the idea of Red, possibly focusing on Eyesore to find out what he was doing. Maybe that's why he acted so tense. It could also explain the late nights and defensive attitude. But Gunmetal's voice snapped him out of it before the possibility fully ingrained into his mind. 

"Hey, Revenant! Are you gonna go or what?"

Oh, right. 

Frank grunted. "Yeah yeah, I'm going, relax assholes."  
  


He won that match, but Eyesore's methods and Red's absence still plagued his thoughts throughout the entire night. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


"Talk to him, Frank. It shouldn't be that hard." 

Frank brought up his concerns with Curtis one day when he arrived at the Lieberman household for his weekly check-ins. Red wasn't there at the house; he was out training with Spector at Fogwell's. Spector learned more about Red's boxer training and how his father was Battlin' Jack Murdock. Moon Knight was a huge fan, and they bonded through training. It was good that Red was starting to open up more with the others, especially considering that they've known Marc Spector for months now. Either way, Frank spent the entire morning by himself looking through the blueprints on a few buildings in upcoming missions. When Curtis arrived, Frank blurted out the issues that haunted his mind lately. Curtis, being the good friend that he was, gave him some advice. 

"I think you shouldn't give up so easily. Frank, you've known this man for a long time now, and you two have worked together for practically a year," Curtis said. "You’re not too paranoid when the structure you two built when working together suddenly shifted because he wanted to go on his own for a bit. It just doesn't make sense to me. Jonathan— I mean Matt, shouldn't be keeping you in the dark like this."

Well, Frank was glad that Curtis was the smart one here. 

"Yeah, I just… I don't know how to get him to talk." Frank sighed. 

"Yes, you do; out of everyone involved in this entire operation, you're the only one that knows Matt best. I'm sure if you just be more honest about your concerns, then he should talk to you about what's going on," Curtis explained. "You're supposed to be the stubborn asshole here, remember?"

"He's also a stubborn asshole, Curt," Frank said almost fondly. _Almost. "_... But I'm going to give it a try."

Curtis chuckled. "That's the spirit, and hey, maybe the reason might not be too drastic." 

Frank hoped that was the case.   
  
  
  
  
  


Later that day, Red showed up on time for once. He entered the house in a stride and went straight to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Frank had just finished arranging a few blueprints in separate folders from their usual notes. "You know there's nothing in that fridge to eat; I'm restocking it tomorrow."  
  


"I just needed some water," Red said calmly before chugging down a bottle. Okay then. 

"You alright?" Frank asked. "Spector gave you some trouble in the ring?" 

Red chuckled as he tossed the bottle into the mini recycling bin. "No, I was just dehydrated. I guess I forgot to drink some earlier." 

Frank wanted to ask how he would forget to do that, but he assumed maybe Red zoned out while sparring with Spector. It happened before, especially during their sparring sessions. 

"Is something bothering you?" Red asked. 

"Uhh, yeah. I guess there is something I wanna talk about," Frank started, trying to find the best words to say before Red got the wrong idea. The other man tilted his head, waiting for Frank to continue. "Listen, is there— I don't know, is there something going on, Red?"

"No, just the usual. Why?" 

For some reason, the way Red said that sounded too automated. As if he was preparing for a discussion like this. Frank guessed that maybe Red was a goddamn lawyer about it, but no, this response didn't sound right. 

"Is this about me showing up late?" Red prompted. 

"I guess so, yeah." 

"Frank, I told you already, I'm staying in the headquarters later at night for the after-hour missions," Red explained.

Frank sighed. "I know, but I've been doing recon around HQ too. A lot of rumors going around specifically about Eyesore getting rid of members or something."

Red shifted right then and there at the mention of Eyesore. Suddenly he started to tense up, and his jaw tightened a bit. It was hard to tell if Red's eyes made an expression change behind the dark glasses. He tried to hide the sudden shift and shrugged as if nothing happened. "Those rumors always go around the factory. A lot of members are intimidated by him." Red paused for a moment as if lost in thought, before continuing. "I think Eyesore may have a superpower we don't know about yet." 

Huh, that would make sense on the intimidation part. 

"Is that what you're doing?" Frank asked carefully. "Are you lingering around the factory to find out if those rumors are true?" 

Red hesitated when the question was brought up, which was strange because Red hardly hesitated in anything. It was a straightforward question, and Red almost didn't have an answer for it. What was going on with him?

"Y-Yeah, I'm trying to figure out what's going on with Eyesore— with all the Unspoken leaders, actually," Red finally said. "They're planning on something big soon, and it might take all of us to put a stop to it before it gets any worse." 

That was it? Why the hell didn't he just say that? Why was Red hesitating on something like _that?_

"You know that's some beneficial information, right?" Frank grunted. "Information we could use against them? That was the whole point of doing this undercover mission, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. I was going to tell you and the others..." Red said. He then made a frown. "I wanted to make sure I wasn't jumping to conclusions, but you're right. I should've spoken up about it earlier."

The apologetic look was what got to Frank. It made him soften up a bit from the rising anger, and now he knew what was going on. Red was just making preparations for the worse. Alright, if that was the case, then maybe Frank can set some of his concerns to the side.

Frank sighed again, almost in relief. "It's fine, Red. I just wanted to know for sure you weren't getting into something that might get you killed." 

"Trust me, I'm fine," Red assured him. "And now that we have an idea of what's happening, we should tell the others about it soon."

"Of course, but first, I'm gonna order some food. I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Frank said, and Red nodded in agreement.   
  


They peacefully had dinner, ordering some Thai food while a couple of beers made their way onto the dinner table. It was something Frank missed doing before they were so caught up with the Unspoken. Red showing up late became frequent for the past month or so, and now here they were, eating dinner at the same time. After dinner, Frank turned on the stereo and flipped through his music library to find something to play. Depeche Mode took up the hour while the alcohol in their system made them mellow down a bit. Red was sharing his time hanging out with Spector while Frank listened. He gave out a laugh when Red told him about how he distracted Spector by pointing at nothing and how Spector fell for it easily. 

"I told him he had to pay attention more," Red said as he took a swig from his beer. "I felt bad for a bit, but he was laughing his ass off."

"Yeah? I would too if you did that to me," Frank said.

"Well, I could, but I think you pay more attention than Marc does," Red said before flashing a grin at him. Frank was glad he was sitting down because if there was one thing that can get him weak, it was Red's smile. 

Once Dave Gahan was done with his singing, the music changed to let Hall and Oates take over. And Frank guessed correctly: Out of Touch was the first song to play. 

"Remember when we danced to this song last year?" Red asked casually. 

"We weren't even drunk that time," Frank smiled. "Somehow, I convinced you to go along with it. You were pissed."

"Oh, come on, I wasn't _that_ pissed," Red argued before getting up from his seat. "Besides, I think it's time I returned the favor." 

Oh?

"What? Are you asking me to dance?" Frank laughed, almost a bit giddy. He then noticed Red closing in. "Wait, are you serious right now?" 

Red chuckled. "Yes, I'm serious; I've been feeling stressed all day. The food, beer, and music is helping me out a lot. So, why not?"

Frank grinned. Yeah, why not indeed.   
  


Red pulled Frank up from his seat and already began to go with the tempo of the song. It's been a while since they danced like this. The last time they did, Madani interrupted, and that was when the whole previous resort began. Now, they had the chance to let go for a bit and forget about the chaos outside. It was refreshing, and Frank couldn't get enough of it. However, the same couldn’t be said for Red. Throughout the dance, Frank noticed how Red slowly started to become a bit sluggish as they moved. At first, Frank thought that maybe Red was probably getting a cramp after eating, but no, he was starting to slow down as the song changed. Soon, Red's shoulders sagged, and he lowered his head before wincing at the sudden pain from his temples.   
  


"Hey, you okay?" Frank lowered the music and stopped the dance. "Red?" 

"It's fine. It’s just a migraine," Red said through gritted teeth. 

Frank helped him sit down. "Hold on. There’s probably some Tylenol in the cabinet." 

" _No!_ " Red growled, grabbing Frank's wrist hastily. Frank was almost taken aback by the sudden reaction, but Red immediately relaxed and loosened his grip. "I mean— no, thank you. It's going to muddle my senses, and I'll have a hard time figuring out everything." He explained, his voice sounding a lot calmer than before, but it had the same unsettling automatic tone to it. 

Frank nodded, and Red released his hold on his wrist. "Right, okay." Without thinking, Frank took off Red's glasses after noticing how much Red pinched the bridge of his nose. He thought it would be easier for him if his glasses were out of the way. But then Frank took one good look at his eyes.

Red's eyes were bloodshot. 

"Christ Red, how much sleep did you get last night?" Frank asked. It looked as if Red pulled an all-nighter. "You don't look good."

"It's fine. I’ll sleep off the migraine," Red muttered. He got up from his seat and crossed the room to get to the stairs.

"Wait, hold on—" Frank stammered. 

"Good night, Frank," and Red disappeared up the stairs, leaving Frank alone in the living room staring at his empty presence. 

The initial worry from before came back full force after that. Frank wanted to ask Red about what was going on with his slow movements and tired eyes, but when morning came through, the guest bedroom was empty.   
  


Red was gone, and for once, Frank didn't know what to do. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Frank saw Red less and less as the mission continued its course of action. 

Red only showed up whenever a group meeting about whatever big thing the Unspoken planned on doing. And whenever Frank brought up the concern again, he acted as if the migraine from the night before never happened. There were times where Frank would get a chance alone with him to talk about it, and Red would wave it off, saying that he just needed more sleep that night. Frank wasn’t exactly satisfied with an answer like that, but Madani’s impatience and the team’s stress made him accept it anyway. They still had a job to do. 

Jessica and Trish slowly warmed up with the group and became more involved with what was happening outside the mission. Spector and Frenchie got along with them pretty well to the point where Trish started asking for boxing lessons from Spector. She wanted to improve her fighting skills and become an official vigilante, despite Jessica’s protests. Frank would agree with Jessica on the vigilante part, but Trish was an adult, not a child. Asking for a few training tips for better self-defense wasn’t a bad idea. Later on, Jessica would follow Frank and Red around after dark when they would finish with the Unspoken. When Frank asked why Jessica simply said, “Someone has to watch your backs even from the outside.” So Frank left it at that. Nothing wrong with some extra precaution. 

Not only that, he was glad someone was watching from afar. 

Especially when someone within the Unspoken was following Frank.  
  


A couple of days ago, it started happening after a large gang raid around New Jersey’s outskirts. It was the most extended mission they had so far with the Unspoken, and Frank was glad that it was only that one time they had to go outside the state to do something. Some of the Undertakers and Hellhounds had stolen some cargo from one of the warehouses in North Riverdale. It was all hands on deck during that raid, and Frank remembered fighting a few gang members while Red went off with a few members from the group to do something. He can’t recall what it was specifically. Red said it was recon, but Frank felt like they were doing something other than that. He didn’t get the chance to ask for more specifics when Red ghosted him again after the raid. Frank still didn’t know what to do about that.

After the raid, Frank wandered around the factory more frequently, trying to find some of the cargo they retrieved from the gangs. The location they were in was strange in how far it was compared to the regular warehouses. Frank suspected that there were stolen weapons inside the cargo, but he never got the chance when someone kept distracting him. A stranger that always lurked in the background whenever Frank was around the factory. He thought he was going crazy initially, thinking that maybe his paranoia was getting the best of him and manifested a figure to haunt him further. Or that it could be just pure coincidence and he was overthinking things as usual. Frank then thought it was probably Eyesore trying to fuck with him or some obnoxious member trying to play tricks with him by abusing their powers. However, that was never the case. It was an Unspoken member, but not one Frank recognized from before. The only ones that interacted with him were the ones that called him over for poker night, so this guy— whoever he was— kept wandering around the same area as Frank. 

Again, it might’ve been a coincidence, but it slowly became a definite pattern that was starting to get on Frank’s nerves. He decided to figure out what this guy’s deal was by testing how far he was willing to follow him. Frank walked out of the factory and out into the junkyard. He went into the dark corners where some of the older warehouses sat. Barely anyone liked hanging around those areas due to the smell and how hazardous it was with broken glass bottles and leftover debris. Frank took a glance over his shoulder briefly to notice that yes, the stranger was still following him, even into an unwanted area with flickering lights. 

Frank made a quick turn around one corner of the warehouse and waited. He listened for footsteps approaching the intersection, and once the stranger showed his face, Frank grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall.   
  


_“Ow!”_ _  
  
_

Why did that pained cry sound high-pitched?

Frank brushed that aside and curled his lip. “What do you want?” 

The stranger stared at him with wide eyes while trying to lift his arms in surrender. “Wait! I can explain!”

Okay, something was up with this man’s voice. Upon closer look, the stranger was older, with visible wrinkles, graying hair, and crow's feet at the eyes. However, when he spoke, he sounded like a _kid._

“Frank, what the hell are you doing?” Suddenly, Jessica appeared behind them, lowering her camera. “You seriously had to drag this guy out here of all places? I can’t believe you’re making me use my legs.”

“Oh my gosh! No way! You’re Jessica Jones!” The stranger said it with such glee it completed distracted Frank off from what was happening. Even Jessica looked baffled, and that almost scared Frank a little.

“Wait a minute, were you following me around this whole time?” Frank asked Jessica once he found his voice. 

“Someone has to, especially when your partner in crime isn’t here right now,” Jessica replied before she glared at the stranger. “Anyway, what the fuck is your deal?”

“Oh, right!” The stranger said, lifting his hands again. “Okay, this is going to be super weird, so don’t freak out.”

Frank wanted to ask what he meant by that until the stranger started to _shapeshift_ right before their eyes. The older man was gone, and instead, a young girl stood in his place. She was wearing a blue domino mask that matched the blue and red color scheme of her outfit. She had a long, flowing scarf that stretched to the ground, and there was a large, yellow lightning bolt that covered her torso. It was the logo of her costume.   
  


“My name’s Ms. Marvel. Nice to meet you!”

What the actual fuck.

“... Okay, I need a drink,” Jessica said in defeat, pulling out a flask from her jacket and took a long swig from it. Frank couldn’t believe he saw someone shapeshift like it was nothing, but he was more surprised with the fact that it was just some kid following him around. 

Here. 

In the Unspoken headquarters. 

_Alone._   
  


“What the hell are you doing here by yourself?” Frank demanded.

The kid— Ms. Marvel, was what she called herself— stared at him. “I’m trying to stop the Unspoken from the inside? Like you?”

“No, I mean— For Christ’s sake, you’re just a kid! Why are you all alone inside a dangerous organization?” Even if she had superpowers, it still wasn’t a great idea to go in alone without any backup. Curtis was right about that. 

Ms. Marvel scowled at him. “Hey, I’m not a kid! I’m 19! I can drive a car _and_ vote.” She said proudly, with her hands on her hips and chin up high. 

Jesus fucking Christ, out of all the things to happen tonight.

“You’re still a kid in our eyes, _kid,"_ Jessica spoke up after finishing her drink. “We’re like decades older than you with experience, and you’re running around the Unspoken with no backup.”

Frank nodded. “Exactly, you need to get out of here while you can. I don’t care if you have superpowers or not. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh no, you can’t just tell me to leave when I’ve been working on a case against them for so long!” Ms. Marvel argued. “I was here for over a month now, and I’m not going to drop everything I’m doing just because the Punisher told me so!”

Frank blinked. “What makes you think I’m the Punisher?”

“I had my suspicions during the New Jersey raid from a few weeks ago,” Ms. Marvel explained. “I was about to stop the gang from there until I saw the Unspoken crash in. I’ve only heard of them from the news, but I’ve never seen them in action. I briefly saw you looking around for something; you weren’t paying attention to the mission. I was there trying to find any of the kidnapped victims in the warehouse, and I tried to stop the fighting, but then you guys left before I could even do anything.” She sighed, crossing her arms while she looked at the ground. “The Unspoken has been taking people from New Jersey lately. Some of them are regular humans: my neighbors, my classmates, my _friends._ They’ve also been taking a lot of fellow Inhumans like me.” 

Shit… that probably explained why she was here in the first place.

“I decided to follow a group back here, where I found a few things I needed and spotted a few people I recognized, including you,” Ms. Marvel continued. “At first, I thought I was probably going nuts. Not every shooter you come across has to be the Punisher out of all people. But I managed to catch you one night when you talked to that guy with the red bandana and long hair. I stretched my ear to better listen to your conversation, and you mentioned something about the garage explosion from last year, Moon Knight and Jessica Jones. The only other vigilantes interacting with Moon Knight and Jessica Jones were Daredevil and the Punisher. You happened to be a gunman and fit the Punisher’s physique, and I just put the pieces together.”

Frank was speechless.

“Also, I had to risk it and see if you would hurt me or not once you saw I was just a girl,” Ms. Marvel added. “I know you have a soft spot for women, teenagers, and kids. You _never_ tried to hurt anyone in those groups actively. Plus, Jessica Jones casually showing up and talking to you pretty much confirmed my theory.”

“God damn it,” Jessica grumbled before asking: “Wait, what did you mean by ‘stretching your ear’?”

“Oh, I _literally_ stretched my ear to make it bigger,” Ms. Marvel said as if it was an everyday thing she regularly did. “I have stretching powers too.” She demonstrated this by turning her arm into a long noodle and made her fist bigger than her head. “See?”

Frank was not going to have an easy time sleeping tonight, that’s for sure.

“Ok… well, that explains a lot, but I still don’t think you should be here,” Frank said. “Don’t you have a family back home? Wouldn’t they be worried sick if you’re out here risking your life with these corrupt assholes?”

“My dad knows what’s going on, and as much as it hurts me to make him worry so much, I’m not going to stop my mission,” Ms. Marvel said, her voice shaking a little. Something told Frank that her dad was all that she had left since the aftermath. “Innocent people are being taken by the Unspoken, and they’re spreading their mayhem into New Jersey. People are out here in New York, hidden in warehouses, scared out of their minds, and wondering if they’re ever going to get out of this. Whatever the Unspoken is planning with them, it had something to do with A.I.M. All of it sounds way too much like them, and I know how they operate. I’m going to find evidence so that SHIELD can put a stop to them and so that I can save these victims from them. And I’m not going to let you two tell me otherwise because I’ve already made up my mind!”

It always led back to A.I.M.

If A.I.M. did create the Unspoken as some sort of essential operation for something… then who could blame someone like Ms. Marvel for trying to put an end to it before it got worse?

Frank sighed. “Fine… we won’t stop you.”

Ms. Marvel’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really?”

Jessica stared at him. “ _Really?"_

“Yes, really, but on one condition…” Frank couldn’t believe he was about to say this, and Red was probably not going to be very happy about it either. But Red wasn’t here right now, and that was all on him for being absent. “You’ll be working with us. No more running around by yourself, no more stalking, none of that. We’re all going against the same enemy here, so you might as well get comfortable with working on a team.”

“Your buddy’s not gonna be happy about that…” Jessica said as a reminder.

“Yeah, well, Red’s not here right now, so he’s not calling the shots,” Frank grunted.

“Yes!” Ms. Marvel grinned, jumping up in the air from the news. “I didn’t think you guys would let me in on this, but thank you! I won’t let you down!”

Frank sighed softly. She was a good kid that meant no harm.

“By the way, who’s Red? Is that Daredevil?”  
  
God damn it, Ms. Marvel was brilliant. She was a lot like Lisa, always read people easily, and was a little sleuth when it came to secrets. But it wasn't fair to compare Lisa to someone that wasn't her. Someone who was still _alive._ “Yeah, it’s Daredevil.”

“Aww, you have a nickname for him,” Ms. Marvel smiled. 

Frank made another grunt and walked away from the corner, the other two following behind him. 

“Don’t worry about him. He misses his best friend,” Jessica told Ms. Marvel, who giggled in response. Frank rolled his eyes.

It was going to be another long night.  
  


  
  


* * *

  
  


Introducing Ms. Marvel to Red didn’t turn out as bad as Frank had initially thought it would. 

  
For once, Red answered his phone when Frank called him about it. There was a hint of disappointment in Red’s tone, but Frank told him to get it together and to stop being such an asshole about it. Frank, Jessica, and Ms. Marvel— who had introduced herself as Kamala Khan once she had taken off the mask and changed into her civilian clothing— waited at a diner in Hell’s Kitchen to meet up with Red. It was empty that night, with the three of them being the only customers there after midnight. Red arrived after they had finished eating a quick bite, and he was in a regular hoodie and his glasses rather than the ashy, burgundy coat he usually wore as Infrared.

Kamala took a quick sip from her soda before leaning over to Jessica. “Is that Daredevil?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yup,” Jessica said.

“You gonna keep standing there or what?” Frank asked, which prompted Red to slide into the booth and sit next to him. That’s what he thought.

“Um, hi, I’m uh, Ms. Marvel,” Kamala greeted awkwardly.

“I know who you are,” Red said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

God, Red looked exhausted; the way his voice sounded didn’t hide it one bit, but Frank can appreciate that he was at least trying to be polite.

“So, now the group’s expanded a bit,” Jessica started, beckoning over to Kamala and the notes on her phone. “And we got a lot to go over.”

“We sure do,” Frank said. He felt Red ease up a bit next to him, and Frank couldn’t help but find comfort in that somehow.  
  


Throughout the entire briefing, Frank kept most of his attention on Red as they explained everything. The concern never really went away, but Frank wasn’t going to call him out just yet.

  
  


In time, Frank was going to find out what was going on with Red, one way or another.


	13. Hymn for the Shameless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are going to really dive into the angst aspect and get a smidge longer in word count. It's just general bad guys being bad guys. 
> 
> Explosions and mention of death tw  
> Mental and emotional manipulation tw   
> Mentions of arson tw
> 
> Many thanks to artsy_hoe for beta reading this chapter!

XIII

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
The familiar exhilaration that Matt felt in the ring was welcoming.

  
Marc beckoned for him to make a move, and Matt played the waiting game before striking at his unprotected side. Their sparring session had been going well once they had put on the gloves and stepped into the ring. During a conversation, Marc overheard Matt mention his father being a boxer, and when he asked who it was, Matt discovered that Moon Knight was a fan. Matt knew that Marc had some boxing training when he first interacted with him during the Bernat situation. Now, Matt finally got an idea of how much training Marc had. At one point, Marc had told both Matt and Frank about the days where he and Frenchie used to be soldiers, ex-marines, just like Frank. Of course, Marc had gone through military training and acquired some skills in boxing. It was impressive how Marc fought in a rhythm to match with Matt’s. It made their sparring session a lot more interesting when they both knew what to pull and how to avoid any tricks. Well, almost any tricks. 

“Hey, I think there’s something over there,” Matt said, pointing over to something random within the gym. Marc fell for it and turned around briefly to finally realize what had happened when Matt tripped him. Matt gave out a laugh, and before he knew it, Marc was also laughing. “I didn’t think you would fall for that.” Matt held a hand out to help Marc up from the floor. 

“I thought you were serious there, for a second,” Marc chuckled. “But I guess I’m the fool.”

“No, you just need to stop getting distracted,” Matt said. 

Marc scoffed. “Look who’s talking.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You get distracted too, y’know,” Marc said as he took off his gloves. “Especially when a certain someone is around.”  
  


Hold on, was he talking about?  
  


Oh.

“No, I don’t,” Matt said, almost defensively. 

“Yes, you do,” Marc said, and Matt could tell he was grinning. “I don’t know why you keep ghosting him when you two clearly got something going on.”

“I’m not trying to ghost him. I’ve just been busy, is all.” It was the truth, for the most part.

"Uh-huh, sure." Marc hummed as if he didn't believe him. “Castle’s been pretty moody lately, and I’m certain if you just talked to him and let him know what’s _really_ going on, maybe he’d understand.”

“I already did,” Matt grunted, undoing the tape from his wrists. “He knows what I’m doing; he’ll be fine.”

Marc lifted his hands. “Alright, I’m just saying. I’m not trying to go against you, Matt. I’m just trying to give you some friendly advice.”

Right. He and Marc were friends, after all. God, it was wild to think about the fact that he was now friends with Moon Knight out of all people. Maybe Frank was right. He should stop being an asshole sometimes.

Matt sighed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry if I came off a little…”

“Aggressive?” Marc finished for him. “Yeah, I understand. It’s a lot of stress on everyone’s parts right now." 

"Of course, I'm sure everyone is stressed out right now," Matt couldn't agree more. 

"Good thing we're doing some training to let go for a bit," Marc grabbed a water bottle and tossed one over to Matt. He caught it effortlessly, which earned him a small snicker from the other man. "It's still crazy how chemicals in your eyes gave you heightened senses." 

Matt scoffed, but he was grinning nonetheless. "Not as crazy as the Egyptian moon god resurrecting you from the dead, right?" 

"Alright, you got me there." 

They sat in comfortable silence, catching their breath while rehydrating themselves against the ring. Matt was glad he could steer away from the conversation about Frank when he brought up his past. As much as he didn't mind talking about Frank, that wasn't the main issue that's been circling inside his head lately. Eyesore knowing the truth about his blindness still created a sense of dread that never really went away ever since that night. Matt wanted to know what the older man was up to, primarily when Eyesore assigned so many missions for small teams rather than the usual groups the other leaders made. At one point, Matt manages to sneak into one of those groups, following them on whatever they were doing. They were exactly like the ones that the Unspoken typically carried out, except there was more stealth involved, along with more theft and arson. Eyesore had his plans, and Matt wanted to know what they were, mostly when some of them involved Frank somehow.   
  


"Hey, are you alright?"   
  


"What? Oh, sorry, I zoned out for a bit," Damn it. Matt didn't think he would blank out during the day. 

"Have you been getting sleep lately?" Marc asked. 

"No, not really— but it's nothing, I'm fine," Matt quickly said. 

Marc gave another snicker, only this time it sounded almost fondly. "Geez, you're just like a lot of people I know, especially Gena. Gena used to be just like you when it comes to sleep."

Wait. "Gena?" 

"Yeah, you ever been to Gena's Diner?" Matt nodded. "She's the one who ran the place. Always trying to get everyone's orders and tries to do everything herself, despite having a staff just as hardworking as she is…" Marc paused briefly, and Matt sensed the way his attitude changed into something somber. "... Well, she _was._ "

It was hard to bring up those they lost from the aftermath. Matt couldn't blame Marc for the hesitation and shaky voice. It's been over a year, and he still had difficulty talking about Foggy and Karen to anyone. 

"Frank used to talk to Gena all the time whenever he visited the diner. He told me she has two boys," Matt mentioned. "Do you know what happened to them?" 

Marc huffed lightly, but it didn't give any hints that it was terrible news. "Frenchie and his husband, Rob, are looking after Ricky and Ray. They're doing alright under their care, still going to college and all, but they still miss their mother. I check in on them whenever I have the chance." 

Huh, Matt didn't know Frenchie was married. That was another fun fact he knew now. Either way, it was a relief to hear about the status of Gena's sons. "It's going to be hard for them, but at least they still have people that support them." 

Marc smiled. "Yeah, Ricky and Ray look after each other all the time. They're two peas in a pod, and they have a strong bond together. Shit, seeing them sometimes makes me wish I had something like that with my brother—" Marc's voice went dry, and his mouth became a thin line before he could even finish. 

"Marc?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything." 

"Hey, it's okay," Matt said softly, noticing how Marc practically shook at the mere mention of his brother. Bad memories were sending tremors throughout the other man's body. "You don't have to explain anything, I understand." 

"Good," Marc said gruffly, leaning back against the wall. "He was an asshole that ruined my life and so many others, and he died for it. That's all you need to know." A sad hint in his tone made him waver a bit when he spoke, but Matt didn't want to point that out. It wasn't his place to do so. 

Matt nodded. "I get it. I won't be asking anything about him."

Marc sighed. "Thank you, Matt. Maybe one day I can talk about him without getting angry about it. It's hard to avoid a conversation about him when he's affected so many of my closest friends." 

"The choices people make can cause a lot of outcomes for others. Sometimes, they can be hard to avoid, and other times it's just an unfair chance of it happening to the people you care about," Matt explained, thinking about his own choices and how they created multiple consequences on so many people. It was a topic he tried not to speak about, but it was something that can't be ignored for too long. 

"I had to put him down, Matt," Marc murmured truthfully. "Randall was a killer, with no sense of redemption. All he wanted was death and destruction, and I had to stop him. Jake said he deserved it. Steven said we should've tried harder to help him. And Khonshu?" Marc gave out a humorless laugh. "Khonshu didn't care; they just wanted me to get it done. I sometimes wonder if that was the right call." 

Matt furrowed his brows. It felt like a confession that should be shared with a priest. However, Matt was no priest, and the gym was no church. Here, it was just them sharing their truths without the outside world judging them. Not even God can judge them here. 

"Do you feel guilty about it?" Matt asked curiously. 

Marc shook his head. "I feel guilty about not stopping him a lot earlier. But do I feel guilty about killing him? Not one bit." 

It was the cold truth. There was no skip in Marc's heartbeat, which was saying something, considering how his heartbeat was the strangest thing Matt's ever heard. Resurrection can create a lot of mysterious side effects. 

"If you and I met in the past, I probably would've been skeptical about your decision," Matt answered honestly. "But now? I don't blame you. You didn't even have to tell me the full story. I can already tell that even though you don't feel any guilt about his death, it still pains you to remember it." 

Marc gave out another laugh. This time, there was a sense of relief emitted from it. "Couldn't have said it better myself. You're easy to talk to, y'know?" 

"I don't know about that, Marc. Not a lot of people like talking to lawyers," Matt grinned. 

"True, but you get it; you and I are kinda alike in some ways, and for once, that doesn't scare me," Marc said, and Matt could tell the other man was in a state of tranquility that he wished he had. 

They reminisce on other memories, better memories that helped them understand each other a bit more than before. Matt was having an easy time talking to Marc as well, and he got to know more about him as the minutes ticked by. Marc was a good man deep down, and it erased the strange facade of Moon Knight to show how much he cared about the city and his friends. Matt can admire something in a person, and yeah, he and Marc were very alike. 

Marc's lack of guilt for his brother's death still sat on his mind throughout the discussion. Matt remembered the times he was struck with shame and misery, with how his sense of morality hung low over his head and added weight on his shoulders. It would've driven him mad if he didn't turn to fate and begged forgiveness. Now? All of that had settled into the dust that was his neglect. Matt had spent too much time wallowing in guilt and shame, and it was best not to let it distract him so much throughout the aftermath. It didn't mean it never stopped lingering around the corners of his mind. He still felt guilty for not telling Frank the complete truth, and he always felt guilty for not letting him in on this personal mission of his. And yet, he wondered how someone like Marc Spector could so quickly let go and lack the feeling of guilt over something so devastating. 

Matt idly wondered what it would feel like not to feel guilty all the time. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The screams started once the explosion sounded off. 

It was a trap, and the entire group fell for it.

The Unspoken meant to raid a workshop building that was owned by a few of the gangs. Animus assigned multiple groups to raid the factory while also requesting Eyesore to accompany them. It was a daunting task to achieve, mostly when all three gangs were waiting for them at the building. 

At first, Matt suspected it was a mission where they went in, vandalized the property while the gangs were away, stole anything valuable, and got out. Quick and easy. However, he heard multiple gang members hiding from afar, watching them, before alerting their buddies to trap them inside. Matt warned Frank about the incoming attack and pondered whether or not to alert Eyesore about it as well. As much as he didn't like the older man, it would be useful to gain some trust, even though Matt felt like he was always watched thanks to Eyesore knowing the truth. Eventually, the thunderous footsteps approaching the building caused Matt to break, pulling Eyesore to the side to warn him. 

"There's over a dozen of them heading over right now," Matt whispered to him. "It's a trap." 

From there, Eyesore demanded that everyone went into position for an attack. Right on cue, the opposing gangs jumped in, and chaos was unleashed. 

Frank went off to gun down any gang members with firearms, while Matt ran off with a small group from the party to fight any brawlers. It was nothing but pain and bloodshed as Matt continued to fight off a few gang members. Some of them came at him with billy clubs and chains, which made it easy for him to hear when they were about to swing. Matt fought them off with the help of other Unspoken members alongside him. Before he could adjust his position to defend himself, a few heartbeats began to pound, and that was when Matt realized that one of the gang members had a detonator in his hands. 

The explosion went off at the building’s side, completely blowing out the wall and caused debris to fly out everywhere. Everyone in the building braced themselves as the dust washed over. Matt took cover behind a few crates while desperately trying to find Frank's heartbeat in all of this, hoping that he was nowhere near the explosion. Luckily, he found Frank hiding behind another wall from across the building with a few Unspoken members. Matt sighed in relief, but the comforting sense of assurance didn't last long when the screams from outside the construction began. 

There were people outside the building. 

Passing-by civilians must've approached it to see what was going on with the trapped chaos within it. The first responders’ sirens had already been alerted, but they weren't enough to drown out the blood-curdling screams that begged for mercy. 

Dear God, a few of these victims were _children._ People were _dying._ And the gangs barred no sympathy as they tried to escape the building, while those with firearms stayed behind to finish the job. A few of them were shot down by Frank and the other gunman, but Eyesore shouted at them to stand down. The Unspoken members also began to back away from the chaos after Eyesore gave a sharp whistle and called for a retreat. 

Matt wished he could save them. He hoped he could get out there and help the poor victims, but Matt knew deep down there was nothing he could do at this point. A couple of them had already died from the explosion while the first responders quickly approached the building. They had to retreat.   
  


The trip back to HQ was a silent one.

Each group was divided into different vehicles and retreated in different directions to create less suspicion on their parts. Matt was _seething_ when he was in the truck, thinking about how the mission had failed, especially with blood on everyone's hands. Frank must've noticed his agitation and tried to ease him out of it.

"There was nothing we could, Red," Frank whispered. "We can check on the victims later after this, but we can't do anything about it right now." 

As much as Matt wanted to go out as Daredevil, his rage never left him throughout the entire trip. 

Back at HQ, Animus and Smokescreen were appalled by the explosion raid. Of course, not because of the victims but because they didn't get the chance to kill every gang member and steal anything valuable. They could care less for the innocent bystanders that were affected by the entire raid. 

Matt hated it; he hated being stuck in one place. He hated being useless and hated how the factory’s entrance was more heartless than he initially expected them to be.

Before he could voice his anger with Frank, someone pulled him aside. 

"He's looking for you." 

The monotone voice belonged to Foreshadow, who was pointing over to where the factory’s entrance was. The smell of cheap cologne and worn down leather was enough to tell Matt who it was. Matt nodded at Foreshadow, ignoring the other man’s intense stare before walking over to the Unspoken leader.  
  


"You and I need to have a little chat," Eyesore told him. "Alone." 

Here we go.  
  


Eyesore led Matt outside the factory and over to one of the warehouses across from it, one where it was less populated than the rest. Matt kept his gaze lowered, avoiding any eye contact from anyone they walked by. Once they reached an empty warehouse, Eyesore leaned over to one of the walls, his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly. 

“I guess I should be thanking you for the warning earlier,” Eyesore started. "Not only did it save our asses, but it also gave me a better idea of how you're able to do so much despite your blindness." 

_Great._

"How did you find out?" Matt asked. It was a question he should've asked in the first place. 

The dry chuckle from Eyesore was a sound that felt too harsh, almost like sandpaper to his ears. "Let's just say I decided to pay closer attention to you, even when you weren't noticing. You avoid face-to-face conversations too much for me not to notice."   
  


_Shit.  
  
_

Eyesore figured it out.  
  


Matt swore he and Frank were careful enough not to get caught, so the fact that one of his secrets had been revealed somehow wasn't easing the unsettling feeling. Not only did Eyesore know about his blindness, what else does he know? Did he find out who Matt and Frank indeed were, or worse, if he knew about the uncover mission?

This entire interaction already had too many red flags to count. 

"Listen, Infrared, I already told you I wouldn't tell a soul about your disability," Eyesore said, still staring directly at Matt. "I don't even think anyone would believe me if I did." 

Some relief came through. It seemed like Eyesore only knew about his blindness and nothing more. Matt hoped that was the case. "Then what do you want?" 

Eyesore gave another laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to let you know that it's not a great idea to be lingering around my missions." 

Matt tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, son," Eyesore said gruffly. It almost sounded like he was scolding him. "I knew you were around my groups whenever I sent them out for assignments. I can tell you sneak your way into them once you think I'm not paying attention, but trust me, I've noticed. Besides, you've been feeling the side effects, haven't you?"

"What?" 

"The side effects," Eyesore reiterated. "Migraines that happen out of nowhere, sudden agitation, lack of sleep, fatigue, all of that. You've been experiencing them lately, correct?"

"I… " Matt didn't want to say that he had been, just so that Eyesore wouldn't gain any sort of satisfaction. However, it was the truth. Every time he returned from Eyesore's missions, a migraine would happen, or he would get a sudden mood swing. The lack of sleep could be anything since that was a given for him. Now it's been happening far more often than before. 

Eyesore made a small "tsk" underneath his breath as he shook his head. "Of course ya have; it happens to anyone that is around me when I'm using my abilities." Before Matt could ask, Eyesore continued quickly. "You and I both know that the Unspoken is filled with a few mutants and Inhumans. They have powers that could easily kill any of us, but they haven't done that so far. Wonder why…" 

The implication came in a rush in Matt's head, which made him realize why the superpowered individuals hadn't done so.

It was because of Eyesore.

Eyesore had powers, and it had something to do with their behavior.

"What did you do?" Matt asked. This time, he didn't hide the anger that was slowly breaking the mask. 

Eyesore took his hands out of his pockets as a way of surrender. "Relax, it's nothing terrible, I can guarantee you that. I know what you're thinking: I'm controlling them in some way, messing with their heads." He shrugged. "Well, yes and no; see, I can control emotions in a way that isn't very traditional, so to say. I'm more of a take and give a kind of emotion controller."

Matt waited for Eyesore to explain further, despite the multiple questions he still had left to ask. 

"It's pretty simple. I take away any sort of emotion, whether positive or negative, and the person won't feel it anymore," Eyesore continued, now pacing around Matt as he spoke. "I can amplify an emotion as well, so that's a plus on my end. It has its ups and downs, but I don't try to think about that too much. Besides, you don't need to worry too much about your fellow Unspoken members, and they’re doing just fine." 

" _How?_ How can they be fine if you're in charge of their emotional states?" Matt questioned. 

"Because I allow them _liberty,_ " Eyesore said, and Matt could tell the man was grinning when he said that. "They're free from feeling any pain from sadness, anger, and _guilt._ Guilt's the biggest one I've been sensing from a lot of these folks, and I can tell it's got its nasty little grip on you too." 

Matt's entire body went cold. 

Matt was about to argue back with denial until the cold made him shudder, and he couldn't move. The feeling of guilt and misery was holding him down, and it almost made Matt gasp for breath. He was gritting his teeth and shuddering from every second of it, and his eyes began to sting. Matt didn't understand what was happening, but all he felt was the sickening sensation of everything that haunted him for so long. The people he lost, the lives he couldn't save, the ones that he turned his back on, it was all tumbling down on Matt all over again, and he wanted it to _stop.  
_

"Huh, you're a lot stronger than I thought. Most people would be on their knees begging for mercy right now," Eyesore said as if he was _impressed._ Suddenly, the sensation was gone, and Matt gasped sharply, inhaling as much air as possible. His body responded naturally, and Eyesore hummed almost sympathetically. "That's some tough willpower you got there. Sorry 'bout that, but I was curious by how much guilt you had. And I can tell, it's enough to send anyone into fits of despair." 

"What the hell…" Matt hissed, his throat dry and his eyes watery. "You—"

"Easy, give yourself a minute," Eyesore said softly. "Painful, isn't it? Mentally, that is. Here, I got you." 

Eyesore waved his hand around, and now, Matt felt more comfortable in his presence. His body responded usually, and the pain he experienced earlier disappeared so quickly. 

The sensation of guilt was gone.

Completely. 

Matt didn't feel it at all. 

He tried to reach into the deepest parts of his memories to feel something, anything. The memories where he betrayed Foggy's trust, or when Elektra died, he didn't feel anything from it. It was as if they were stale, and his emotional response ignored the pain they carried. It didn't affect him at all. Matt felt like he was immune to it.

"Nice, isn't it?" Eyesore asked, still smirking like a giddy child. "It doesn't hurt anymore. It doesn’t drag you down; it’s just _gone._ That's how your teammates feel when they're around me. They _beg_ for these awful little emotions and stubborn inhibitions to go away, and I gladly take it from them. It's so simple and rewarding." 

Eyesore motioned his hand once more, and Matt felt the crawling sensation of guilt again. This time, it was the familiar feeling he always felt. He was back in his stable emotional state. 

"It's not so bad," Eyesore continued, placing his hands back into his pockets. "Now that you've felt it for yourself, you'll know that I have no intention of hurting your friend." 

Matt snapped out of his trance after hearing what Eyesore said. "Wait, what? What the hell are you going on about now?" He wanted to be upset that Eyesore used his powers on him, but Matt was more concerned about what he meant with Frank.

"Your friend, Revenant," Eyesore clarified. "He would be very useful for my missions. A professional gunman like him is prone to have anger and regret littered all over his min. I can tell just by looking at him. Since you've just experienced my ability, you don't need to worry about what will happen to him. I will make sure his emotional state will be perfectly content."  
  


_No.  
  
_

No, he wouldn't.  
  


Matt tried to keep himself calm and to appear as clear-headed as possible before Eyesore got any ideas. He knew what Eyesore can do now, so if he got angry and attacked him, he might amplify those negative emotions again and send Matt into a catatonic state. 

However, Matt wasn't going to stand there and let Eyesore get anywhere near Frank. At this point, he wouldn't wish _anyone_ to be around Eyesore. The Unspoken leader was a dangerous man, and Matt wouldn't forgive himself if Frank got caught in the storm of this emotion-controller. 

Not only that, Matt couldn't imagine how Frank would turn out if Eyesore got to him. The older man said that he had strong willpower. So maybe, just maybe…  
  


Matt had a chance to convince him. 

_"Wait!"_

Eyesore stopped in his pacing and looked back at Matt. "What is it?" 

"You don't want him," Matt said, keeping his cool as he faced Eyesore. "There's too much going on in Revenant's head, and I don't think he'd be much use for you. You need someone better than him."

Eyesore scoffed. "Is that so?" 

Matt nodded. "You just told me yourself I had stronger willpower than most people. Look how fast I recovered from your abilities. Do you think Revenant could handle himself afterward, or do you want a gunman hunting you down after you poked around his mind for too long?" 

The silence was an indicator that Eyesore was thinking, honestly questioning his choices after Matt had practically offered himself to be the answer. Matt listened closely to the older man, trying to figure out anything that can give away a change of direction. Eyesore's breathing shifted slightly, and soon the older man gave another abrasive laugh. 

"You make a fair point, Infrared. I like the way you think, planning for any possibility," Eyesore said before shrugging again. "Eh, sure, why the hell not. Besides, you are a lot more capable than I expected." He took out his hand and waved it again, and Matt felt a complete change. Everything that Eyesore promised earlier was achieved with just a wave of his hand, and Matt felt the weight from his shoulders lifted. He felt lighter, better as if he was free from pain.

Matt felt like he could take on the entire world. 

"Now, you don't have to worry about those awful nightmares that follow you in the daytime," Eyesore continued. "And hey, I can finally let in you on what our true goal is." 

There was still some part of him that told Matt to be careful, always be aware of his surroundings and the people around him. At least he knew if this were ever to go too far, Frank would be the backup plan. 

Matt had his full trust in Frank, especially when he was going to become a part of the chaos. 

Eyesore explained to him about the raid mission at Bay Ridge, where there were going to be a few gang members there guarding stolen equipment. Some of their hideouts happen to be around that area as well, and Matt couldn't help but mindlessly agree to the task given at hand. Saying no wasn't an option in this case. Matt wanted it to be, but the second he even thought about declining, the memories of the gangs' explosion stunt told him otherwise. The screams and terror from the innocent bystanders that were hurt from the explosion was enough motivation to prompt Matt into vengeance. This felt more enticing than being Daredevil. This was something else. 

He knew he was going to regret it, but it didn't matter right now. Regret and guilt didn't exist anymore.  
  


Matt followed Eyesore to the mission at hand, and releasing the Devil from his soul made him feel alive for once.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Everything felt hazy after the mission. 

The walls held too many whispers from the other side, and the floor didn't feel stable, yet it was fine. Matt arrived back at the headquarters at a late hour, his mind covered in a fog while his clothes wreaked with the smell of white phosphorus. 

_Move,_ his mind begged. _Start moving before someone finds you like this._

A steady beat guided him. It lured him away from the surrounding field of untrustworthy senses. The haze fog finally lifted from his mind as Matt rubbed his temples. He focused on the sound and kept walking; only this time, his body didn't go against him. Everything moved accordingly, and the haze was slowly disappearing. 

Matt eventually found himself at a lonely corner of one of the warehouses, leaning against the wall that had the least cracks in it. The beat had a small skip in it until it got closer to him, and that was when Matt woke from his intermission.   
  


_"Red!"_

Matt turned to the direction where Frank called him. "Yes, Frank?"

Frank rushed to him in urgency, looking him over. "What the hell— where have you been?! You didn't answer my calls. You weren't in the apartment or the house. What were you doing?"

Oh, that's right, people worry if you ghost them for too long. 

"I'm fine; I was gathering information during a mission," Matt said calmly. "Listen, I know where they're holding the military graded weapons. We can send the addresses to Madani and Jessica, and they can handle the rest."

"And you decide to tell me this now?" Frank was still furious. 

"Yes, because I _just_ came back from a mission," Matt couldn't believe how calm he sounded, especially after what happened during the mission. Eyesore's power was really something. "I'm sorry I should've told you earlier. That's all on me." 

Frank gave a low grunt. "Yeah, alright," he didn't sound too satisfied with the answer, but Matt worked with it anyway. "We can head back to the house and let everyone know what you found." 

Matt was glad Frank didn't ask any further questions because he could hear multiple fire truck sirens go off during the drive back to the Lieberman household. They were all heading towards Bay Ridge, specifically, where the mission took place. The good thing was that they took different routes that wouldn't disturb the traffic from where they were in the truck. But Matt still heard them, no matter how far they went. 

"You didn't have anything to do with that, right?" Frank asked cautiously. "I smell some smoke on ya." 

Matt shook his head earnestly. "Not at all; some of the group members had the same smell. Must've gotten on my clothes when I was around them." 

Somehow, that blatant lie managed to put him in the clear when Frank turned his gaze back on the road. Matt wasn't sure if Frank believed him or not, but he never brought it up again when they arrived at their destination. 

He should've felt guilty for lying in front of Frank's face, but Matt felt nothing. 

Just like how he felt nothing when he participated in the burning of the gangs' hideouts in Bay Ridge. They went in, got the information needed, stole a few weapons, and set the small buildings ablaze.   
  


Matt didn't feel a single tinge of guilt about it. 

It was liberating. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Ms. Marvel was another surprise added to the equation of this mess of an undercover mission. 

Matt had heard about a few superheroes outside of New York, of course, but he wasn't a huge fan of children running around playing vigilante. Then again, Kamala wasn't a child, so at least there was that. 

Meeting Kamala in the diner felt as normal as it can get with the group they've assembled. Kamala was a bit shy when she first met Matt, but eventually, she quickly warmed up to him soon once he greeted her. If she were able to warm up to the big, bad Punisher, no doubt Daredevil wouldn't be a problem either. 

At first, Matt wanted to berate Frank and Jessica for allowing Kamala to be a part of the mission, especially with the Unspoken and their origins with A.I.M. After finding out that Ms. Marvel was an Inhuman, Matt had the urge to smack some sense into Frank's thick skull. However, Kamala insisted that it was all her idea and told Matt about her reasons behind going after the Unspoken. It was on par with their mission at hand, and Matt couldn't say no to someone that wanted to save the victims. It was better if she had a group rather than doing it alone. It would be suicide to do it alone, powers, or no powers. So now they had Ms. Marvel on their team, and surprisingly (not really), everyone was completely okay with it. He doubted Madani cared about another new member, so that was a plus as well.

"The more people working on the outside, the better," Jessica shrugged when Kamala was introduced to Marc, Curtis, Trish, and Frenchie. 

"No way! You're Moon Knight?!" Kamala practically squealed when Marc was showing off his vigilante outfit from the sound of the cape fluttering. "I've read so many articles about you! You're so cool!" 

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, huh," Marc said, trying to sound bashful. 

"Show-off," Frenchie muttered fondly. 

While everyone was welcoming Kamala, Frank stepped back to join Matt's quiet corner. "Crazy how this last resort option led to us having a full team." 

Christ, they were an actual goddamn _team_ at this point. Matt didn't want it to happen for many reasons, but a small, traitorous part of himself was silently glad it did. "Yeah, I guess this just happens when we all share the same goal in mind."

Frank hummed in agreement. "I think it's easier on our parts. It's tough running around with our day jobs and nightlife with two identities. We can trust the people here, especially when we're on the inside."

"Of course, I never said I didn't trust them," Matt said.

"I never said you didn't," Frank said softly. "I'm just saying we don't need to worry too much now. Daredevil and Punisher can take a break from the news media for once." 

Matt chuckled at that remark. "Amen to that, I suppose. I'm glad we're slowly getting ahead of everything." He leaned a bit closer against Frank, their shoulders bumping next to each other. Matt can't help but soak in the comfort whenever Frank's around. He was slowly starting to realize why he felt that way until Frank spoke up again. 

"We need to plan a day to take them down, once and for all," Frank said.

Matt evaded the intrusive thoughts. "We still need an actual _plan_ to take them down. Once we gather more information and we find any evidence of them branching off A.I.M., then we can start on the final part of the mission."

"You make it sound like it'll be easy," Frank huffed, which made Matt grin.

"Trust me. It’ll be easy once we have everything we need." 

They stayed in their little corner for a while, enjoying the temporary peace of just the two of them away from everyone else. Matt wished he had a drink in hand to feel completely mellowed out because while Eyesore's ability still had a hold over his emotions, it wasn't enough to keep himself alert. According to Frank, the exhaustion from the previous nights was slowly catching up to him, and while the headaches were gone, Matt's eyes still looked like they needed more hours of sleep. 

Before Matt could let himself rest against Frank's shoulder, the burner phone that rested on the table began to vibrate, snapping Matt back to alertness. 

"It's probably Madani," Curtis told them. 

"It's her alright," Frank said, patting Matt's shoulder, and then walked away from the corner. 

Matt sighed at the space next to him, but he quickly got over it and joined the group at the table. It was a short-lived peace. He expected it to happen. 

Once the phone was put on speaker, Madani gave her usual greeting, and the group slowly got to work again. Kamala was introduced, and her input on the mission made Madani sound a bit enthusiastic for once. Matt told Madani about the weapon smuggling, and from there, they were slowly putting the pieces together. 

The memory of the fires lingered in the back of Matt's mind, but he didn't care about the consequences that followed afterward.

That was more of Infrared's problem. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The news kept mentioning the fires from Bay Ridge, constantly reminding Matt of his actions. 

It never felt like an awful act of injustice to him. Instead, it felt more like a distant memory of a time where everything felt empty. Matt thought it was better that way. The gang hideouts deserved to be burned to the ground, and no one got hurt. The gangs themselves weren't around at the time. The sensation almost felt foreign to Matt whenever he tried to remember the feeling—running around with the lost sense of guilt and regret while spreading flames alongside the Unspoken. While it sounded terrible to anyone who didn't understand the stakes at hand, Matt thought it was worth it in the long run. Throughout these missions, he would gain information that could turn the Unspoken inside out. They were enough to organize map locations and contacts to send to Madani, along with more hideouts where they kept victims. 

Playing with fire wasn't going to last forever; Matt was careful. And within these missions, Eyesore opened up to him more and more each time. It was what Matt wanted: to gain Eyesore's trust and use it against him. If he didn't know about the undercover mission, then what better way than to use the obliviousness to Matt's advantage? Frank was right for one thing. They were getting so close to stopping the Unspoken for good. They just needed time to develop a plan and a day to take them down.

Matt slipped out of the Lieberman household, making sure that Frank was deep in sleep upstairs. Getting to the city wasn't a problem for him. The late hour gave Matt all the time he needed to get to Brooklyn. 

Once he reached the far edges of Brooklyn, Matt adjusted his hoodie and followed the familiar smell of cheap cologne. Eyesore was waiting for him at the warehouses, and he only had a couple of people with him this time. Last time it was a bigger group, but now there were only as few as three people. 

"Are you ready?" Eyesore simply asked. 

Matt nodded. "Let's just get this over with." 

The city held its breath again when Eyesore directed the group to its target—a remote Brooklyn location with frequent gang activity. Eyesore wanted to destroy their drug ring, and Matt was happy to oblige in assisting. Too many of these drug trades had been going on for too long. With the gangs behind them, Matt wanted to put a stop to it. From how Eyesore explained it, he didn't like the drugs themselves; he just wanted to get rid of them. Matt hoped he’d share later on as to why, but for now, he indulged himself with the advantage of lowered inhibitions and went to work. Nothing was holding him back this time. 

Making sure the three gangs were chased out of the city with flames was comforting. It made Matt feel like he was creating more progress than he ever did as Daredevil. No one will get hurt in the fires— he made sure of it— but it will be enough to send a message. To scare the gangs away and remind them who they were dealing with. 

There was still that small, aware part of his mind that itched for realization, but Matt always silenced it. 

It was all for the mission.

It was to make sure Eyesore kept his distance from Frank. 

Maybe Matt would regret it in the end, or maybe he wouldn’t.   
  


It didn't matter.

It would all be worth it.   
  
  



	14. A Cruel Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be uploaded on Feb. 15 instead of the 8th. Next week is fratt week and I want to participate in it and upload a few prompts lol. 
> 
> Arson tw  
> Implied mental manipulation tw  
> Mentions of suicide tw
> 
> Many thanks to Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

XIV

  
  
  
  


  
  


Evidence will always be challenging to obtain. 

Even if it were from the most evident case ever, there would always be a way where evidence will fall into a hidden crevice. 

Frank collected every piece of evidence they had against the Unspoken. He grabbed every folder, flash drive, and audio recording they had obtained throughout the mission to create a connection. The flash drive Snapdragon gave them revealed the full blueprint layout of the Unspoken's main headquarters, along with a few former allies to contact. The partners were on the bench, for now, seeing how the last time they tried getting one, it ended up with a burning apartment and two deaths. They decided to stick with the blueprints instead.

Frank knew how big the abandoned factory was, but he never got the chance to explore the rest of the building since the top floors were off-limits. While the blueprints were promising, they still need a plan for the full take-down. Frank didn't know how the eight of them would fight against an entire organization, but then he remembered that he and Red fought against a whole ninja cult before. Plus, they had a few people with superpowers, and Madani had mentioned before that she would send in back-up to help them, so there was that. This should be a piece of cake for them. 

The nights where it was only Frank in the house were peaceful only when he was busy. 

Organizing piles of information became a systematic part of the routine. Red continued to disappear and participate in whatever hell-mission he was in, and it always left a bitter taste in Frank's mouth. Despite the information Red always brought back, Frank didn't like what he was putting himself through. Sure, it gave them many advantages to use against the Unspoken, but it was doing something to Red nevertheless. Sometimes Red told the truth about his whereabouts, sometimes he didn't, and it only hindered Frank's trust in him. They would meet from time to time, but Red was becoming more distant each day, and it wasn't fun to confront him about it either. Even when Frank tried to face him, Red would shrug it off, change the subject, or play it off as if there was nothing to worry about.

Which alone raised a lot of red flags for Frank.  
  


Red continued to avoid the subject as best as he could, and at one point, Frank dropped it altogether. Fine; if Red wanted to be an uncooperative jackass, then that was his problem. As long as he kept showing up to the briefings with the entire group present, then it wouldn't be such a big deal. 

And yet, it _was_ a big deal. To Frank, at least. 

Their group continued to connect the information they each gathered to build up their final plan. Kamala had managed to save some of her friends from the hidden locations that belonged to the Unspoken while uncovering new hideouts. Jessica and Trish were working on building a case while also finding missing victims. Marc and Frenchie continued to warn Detective Flint and others about any upcoming attacks. Curtis kept an eye out on his neighborhood while also making sure people were aware of anything suspicious. They were slowly taking apart the Unspoken one by one. All they needed now was to finalize the plan. 

While Marc talked to Madani about his detective buddies gathered during a briefing in the Lieberman household, the others were sorting out equipment. 

Frank kept glancing at Red every so often, seeing how he was also discussing his intel. There were dark bags under Red's eyes, and he sounded tired overall. Before he could listen any further, Trish's voice broke through and brought his attention towards her instead.   
  


"Frank, what do you think?"   
  


"Huh? Sorry, I didn't hear you," Frank said. 

"I said, which outfit do you think is better for me to wear?" Trish asked, holding up two sets of dark jumpsuits. One was navy blue, while the other was black with a thin, barely visible, yellow chevron pattern. "I'll be wearing a vest underneath, don't worry, but I need to know which one will help me blend in better." 

Frank looked over both of them, leaning forward to feel the material. While the blue one would work out in the dark, the yellow patterned one had thicker fabric. Despite the pattern making it look like the suit had stripes, it still had a black base. "This one," Frank pointed at the second outfit. "It'll work with you better since you're constantly moving around." 

"I thought about that one too!" Kamala popped in, holding a thin yellow sash. "The dark blue aesthetic is more of your sister's thing."

"Aw, thanks, guys," Trish smiled before adding, "I also have an alias in mind since I can't go running around as Patsy." 

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? What are you going to call yourself?" 

"I was thinking of using the name 'Hellcat,’" Trish told them earnestly. "Cause y'know, I'm usually in Hell's Kitchen, and I've been told that I move 'like a cat,’ so I thought… why not combine those two?" 

"I'm still not a big fan of it," Jessica said, joining them in the living room after the call with Madani ended. 

Trish rolled her eyes. "Jess, you're not a fan of superhero names in general."

Kamala giggled softly, handing Trish the yellow sash. "Well, _I_ think Hellcat is a cool name."

"Why, thank you, Kamala," Trish said triumphantly. "I think so too." 

Frank saw Jessica's eyes dart between the two of them before sighing. " _Fine,_ I guess it's an okay name. But if you start wearing a mask with cat ears on it, I _will_ hate it." 

_Hah,_ Jessica developed a soft spot for the kid.

Frank could already tell Kamala was going to find some cat ears for Trish to wear. He guessed that if she was going to run around being called Hellcat, she might as well look the part. That was how Red got his name as Daredevil.

Curtis walked over to where they were, commenting on Trish's outfit and teasing Jessica about the cat ears. Frank was glad that they were getting along, and he managed to grab Curtis' attention, seeing how he got caught in his gaze. From across the table, Curtis made side glances over to where Red was— and shit, Frank knew what he was trying to say. Curtis gave him the old _"Stop being a pussy and go talk to them"_ look, and Frank rolled his eyes. Yeah, he knew that. He just needed to do it. Before Frank did so, Spector walked up to him.

"Hey, do you mind if I take a look at the headquarter's blueprints? I want to make sure Frenchie and I have it saved for the helicopter." 

"Uh yeah, sure, they're in the main manilla folder. I think Curtis was looking over them earlier," Frank told him. He wanted to give a quick answer before talking to Red, but now that Spector was here, his curiosity got the best of him. "Say, has Red been acting strange lately?" He asked, lowering his voice. Red was talking to Frenchie at the moment, which gave Frank the perfect opportunity to ask while he was distracted. 

"I'm not sure, actually," Spector said quietly. "He stopped going to our sparring sessions a while back, and he hasn't been telling me anything if that's what you're wondering."

 _Wait, what?_ Was Red so caught up with the Unspoken missions that he stopped going to sparring sessions? He stopped sparring with Frank some time back, and now he stopped sparring with Spector too? That doesn't sound like something he would do. Frank had assumed that since Red and Spector were now close friends, that he would've said _something_ to him. 

"Well, I guess I got my answer there," Frank said gruffly. "I'm gonna go talk to him." 

"Alright, have fun," Spector said, patting his shoulder as he made his way over to Curtis. Frank noticed Frenchie finishing up the conversation just in time for him to talk to Red.   
  
  


"Hey," Frank greeted almost lamely. 

"Hi," Red greeted back.

"Can we talk?" 

"I mean, we're talking right now," Red snorted. He thought he was so funny, but Frank wasn't having any of it. 

"I meant in _private_ ," Frank reaffirmed. 

Red furrowed his brows for a moment before shrugging, already heading over to the stairs. "Come on, then." 

They went up to the second floor, where they settled in the hallway, Red leaning against the wall while Frank stood in front of him with his arms folded. How Red always managed to look so perfectly calm while everything around them was still in uproar boggled Frank's mind to no end. It should make him upset, but Red's winning smile and charisma always got in the way and softened the blow of Frank's rage. Somehow. 

"What do you want to talk about?" Red asked. 

"Well, for starters, I wanna know what you told Madani," Frank said. 

"Is that it?" Red chuckled softly. "I was just telling Madani about how we should wrap up this mission and everything I found during Eyesore's missions. I think he's planning something behind Animus and Smokescreen's backs, but I'm not exactly sure what it is yet. I have a few theories, but nothing too strange than our usual guesses." 

Frank's eyebrows raised to his hairline. _What the hell._ Red never mentioned _that_ before. That was something significant to consider. 

"How come you never told me?" Frank asked, and he definitely did _not_ sound hurt asking that. No sir. "Red, the entire group needs to know about that." 

Red frowned as if he was confused by the statement. But his expression changed into something more empathetic. "Right— you're right, I'm sorry. I was going to, but I got caught up with y'know… everything."

It was starting to become really, _really_ hard to stay mad at Red.  
  


Frank sighed. "It's fine. Just don't keep us in the dark like that again."

Red smiled at him. "I'll try." 

God damn that stupid, perfect smile.

Frank nodded. "Alright, so what do you think Eyesore is planning?" 

Red got to explaining what he figured out and what they initially hypothesized from the start: The Unspoken was a group that branched off from A.I.M.— for whatever reason— to spread chaos on purpose to either spite them or to gain the upper hand on them. The gangs merged as a consequence, especially after the Unspoken kidnapped their members and stole their artillery. They might have wanted to obtain enough traction to go against A.I.M. themselves, especially since they had the help of inhumans and mutants on their side, which A.I.M. was heavily against the idea. Thanks to Red fulfilling his guise as Infrared, he managed to obtain some information on Eyesore, who had alternative motives.

"He wants control," Red said, putting it lightly. "The other two want power with what they have already, but Eyesore keeps talking about contacts with outside groups, especially something about Latveria and some mercenary groups."   
  


As Red kept explaining, Frank caught the sight of something that was on his face. A few strands of hair moved out of the way to reveal a thin scar over the edge of Red's eyebrow. 

"When the hell was this?" Frank said as he got closer, taking a good look at the scar. 

"What?" 

"The scar on your eyebrow; when did that happen?" 

Red touched the scar, feeling it briefly before saying, "Oh, that's an old scar; I got it during a mission a while back. You weren't there, and I thought it wasn't that noticeable."

"Was it from an Eyesore mission?" Frank asked, a growl edging at his tone. 

"What? No, it was before that. It's just a scar, Frank. I'm fine. It's not that big of a deal," Red said before beckoning to the stairs. "Let's go back downstairs to the group." 

Frank decided to drop the subject, following Red down the stairs. He didn't know why the scar felt so offensive towards him. Maybe it might've been some protective part of himself peaking out after the sight of it. Frank didn't want Red to get hurt in the process of, well, _everything._ They already went through so much hell, and Frank didn't want Red to add more to that plate inevitably. 

Or maybe Frank was already so far gone with how he felt, and it was starting to become prominent enough for him to realize it. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The Unspoken missions continued to add to the stress that made Frank ache for some solace. 

Throughout these missions, Frank was mostly by himself or with others. Not with Red, of course, because despite everything, the leaders kept putting them on separate tasks. It sucked, but Frank couldn't blame Red for that.  
  


Frank was in a group when some bullshit always came through to ruin the mission for them. They wouldn't obtain the items they were stealing, or the police would arrive on time, prevent them from interacting with the gangs, or even something stupid like going to the wrong address. It was stress-inducing enough that Frank thought he should carry a liquor flask around now (maybe Jessica had the right idea after all). 

What made it worse was the casualties on all sides. 

Frank was used to it. Hell, he should be used to it by now. Being in the military and some secret task force would be forever ingrained into him, and the memory will always serve as a way to enforce his current state. Death will still be around, and he had a job to do until he kicked the bucket. However, it was a different perspective when it came to Unspoken members. The way they would suffer from casualties or die from them was something that felt off. The suicides from before were still happening. But now that Frank was playing the role of being on their side, he started to reconsider the whole cult-like behavior theory. 

Either Animus or Smokescreen coordinated the groups. Frank never had a mission where Eyesore was the one organizing everything. He now knew that Eyesore had his little sector to create assignments thanks to Red's intel. With the other two in charge, they typically picked the same people for specific missions. They always grouped the ones that knew how to handle artillery together, so Frank was still hanging out with the same people during missions. Sometimes they had victories; other times, they didn't. There were missions where it was all going downhill, with little to no success in any way of happening. 

Frank had seen many of his teammates either play emotionless or freak out over the unavoidable truth of forthcoming failure.   
  


There was never an in-between.   
  


And it kept happening.   
  


Frank couldn't ignore it any longer. At one point, he tried to give some sort of reassurance to his panicking teammates, telling them it wasn't a big deal. However, they continued to panic, mostly muttering about what the leaders would think.  
  


Mostly, what _Eyesore_ would think. 

What he would do to them if he found out. 

How they can't fail again, or else Eyesore will know.

From the way they voiced their concerns, Frank's entire body went cold.   
  


There was some sort of correlation to make, but he wasn't sure if it was the right call. Frank continued to convince those frightened teammates that it won't be a big deal, more so, that Eyesore didn't need to know.

As the season changed to something warmer, each mission continued to the next. Frank began to notice familiar faces no longer appearing. He kept tabs with them— the ones that were afraid of Eyesore— and made mental notes of why they behaved that way. It reminded him of the Bernat situation when Spector interrogated one, and they mentioned something about someone finding out. The same concern came from the ones behind the garage explosion from last year, especially from the one that had the unnatural looking eyes. Frank had initially thought that it was just the street lights messing with him, but no, that yellow rim around the irises was starting to become common amongst the paranoid teammates. Too familiar for Frank to miss and to pass off as coincidental. 

Frank decided to get some answers from the poker group he usually hung out around the round table one night. They were always into gossip, both about the Unspoken and outside of it. He remembered Red calling them _'chismosos'_ at one point (He's been around Red for long enough to know what that meant, and it suited them well.), so Frank decided to join in on the gossip. Gunmetal had mentioned before that people were already theorizing that Eyesore killed those that did not succeed in missions. Things began to add up slowly when they talked about disappearances and even suicide-related deaths. Some of them thought the ones caught by the police died by them (Which, to be fair, Frank didn't doubt one bit.), but the ones that were killed outside custody and the headquarters painted a picture that Frank didn't want to see.   
  


Eyesore was behind this somehow.   
  


Frank didn't know what some old man in a shitty trenchcoat and dumb cowboy hat could do to make everyone so afraid of him. Eyesore may have some sort of superpower that was making them behave like this. Red had suspected something like that before, but it might turn out to be true considering the circumstances. However, that wasn't going to make Frank back down. No, he wasn't going to let Eyesore get to him that easily.

He went through every piece of evidence against the older man and even went back to the unnatural coloring in his teammate's eyes again. Not everyone in the Unspoken had them, but Frank got a few answers from the group to obtain more confirmation. Spector had told him that yes, the person they interrogated during the Bernat case had the same yellow rim around the irises. Jessica had said to him that one of the Unspoken members she fought against had bloodshot eyes with pure white irises, admitting that it freaked her out a little. She also mentioned the unusual behavior before getting arrested and how they were dead before reaching the precinct. 

It was adding up too quickly to pass off as a coincidence. 

When Frank voiced the concerns, some of the other gunmen just shrugged it off. Animus' human guard dog, Foreshadow, always weaseled his way to overhear Frank's problems. And every time he did, he told Frank that it didn't matter since they still got recruits to replace them anyway. Foreshadow always looked at Frank dead in the eyes and told him briefly, and Frank hated the way he said it. That statement alone made Frank sick to his stomach. 

It was possible the recruits were the people they continued to kidnap, and Frank had the unfortunate realization that it was an unhealthy cycle of death and corruption. The path that he and Red were stuck in before was _nothing_ compared to the absolute shitstorm that the Unspoken had created. Eyesore would inflict death one way or another, people die from the fear, and innocents are taken only to be brainwashed or forced into working for the organization.

More than ever, Frank knew that he, Red, and the rest of the group needed to put an end to it. They had to finalize the end goal _soon_ , or else the cycle will never break. Frank had to find Red. He had to warn him about what's to come, especially since Red continued his charade following Eyesore.   
  


He can't lose him. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The night where Frank obtained a mission with Eyesore finally came through. 

Smokescreen called him over one night in the factory, telling him that Animus had a mandatory mission for him to participate. When Frank went over to the front, he saw a few familiar faces and other miscellaneous members. Foreshadow was a frequent member he typically saw lurking around the factory, especially around Animus. Next to him was Aperture, the person that created portals— the one from the garage explosion. 

Animus explained that their mission was to infiltrate a few office departments in the lower parts of Hell's Kitchen to recover some device shipment files. Smokescreen directed the address to Aperture, who spawned a row of portals for the entire group to go through. Frank wasted no time and went through the irregular openings, holding his breath and closing his eyes from the cold, blue fog that hit him. 

The last thing he heard Animus telling them was: "You will be meeting up with Eyesore and his team there." 

When he opened his eyes, Frank saw the empty streets of Hell's Kitchen, standing in the middle of one while the rest of the group appeared next to him. The office buildings that Animus was talking about were right in front of them, and Smokescreen motioned his hand to follow. Frank decided to approach Smokescreen once they broke into the building to ask him about further details.

"I've seen these buildings before they were closed down. Who did they belong to?" Frank asked. 

"Oh, they used to belong to a couple of members in A.I.M.," Smokescreen answered casually. "I'm guessing that's why Eyesore wanted to meet up with us here. He kinda has a vendetta against them." 

Huh. Well, that answered a lot of questions. 

Frank nodded in response, going through the building as the group began to split up for the search. Most of the group went to look on the main floor, while Frank decided to go further up to find anything useful. The buildings were now abandoned and old, the paint on the walls chipping off with cracks littered everywhere. Frank cleared a few spiderwebs as he entered the third floor and went straight to the main rooms. He went through them quickly, opening broken cabinets and pushing away anything useless from the bookshelves. Eventually, Frank came across one office that was messier than the others but provided much more than he expected. 

Scattered across the table and flooding the cabinets were multiple files— covered in dirt and debris, but were readable. Frank took the time to skim through each of them, brushing the dirt off to find ID images and names listed under them. Many of the files had project names listed, along with the mentions of belonging to A.I.M. 

Other files contained failed projects where inhumans were involved in using weapons, along with a few flash drives hidden away in compartments. Frank felt like he had won the damn lotto at this point. This was the evidence they needed to connect the Unspoken to A.I.M. If Eyesore was so caught up with them, it was possible that maybe he wanted to destroy the evidence. Frank stuffed all the files and flash drives into his duffel bag, taking as many as possible before leaving the office area. 

When he went back to the main floor, Frank saw two people talking to each other across the area. He immediately went behind a wall and listened in on what they were saying.  
  


One of them was Red. 

The other was Eyesore himself.

"There were a few notes I found on the second floor…" Red said.   
  


Frank kept his breathing down and tried to make as very little noise as possible. He knew Red might know he was there, but Frank was mostly keeping himself hidden so that whoever Red was talking to wouldn't notice. 

"Perfect, hand them over," Eyesore responded. After Red handed over the papers, Frank was guessing that Eyesore was flipping through the pages. "Well, I'll be damned, you found some old listings of a few A.I.M. directors, my brother and I included." 

_Motherfucker used to be an A.I.M. director,_ Frank's mind growled.

"We won't be needing these anytime soon, so I'll be glad to discard them…" Eyesore said before lowering his voice to a whisper. Frank wasn't able to catch any of what he was saying, and before he knew it, the sound of Eyesore's shoes began to recede. Frank peaked out from his hiding spot to see that Red was left alone. Now he had a chance. 

Frank walked over to where Red was, carefully scanning the area in case Eyesore was still around. He sighed in relief before he approached Red.   
  


"Revenant," Red greeted him. 

"Infrared," Frank greeted back, playing along with the aliases as a precaution. "What did Eyesore just say to you?" 

"I'll tell you when we get back. Right now, we have to rejoin the group before they get suspicious." Red warned. 

"Wait, I found something—"

Frank couldn't finish his sentence when Red tackled him to the ground, shielding him from the blast radius. Of course, it had to be an explosion. What _else_ would it be? Frank was starting to get tired of them being a frequent occurrence in Unspoken missions. Following behind the blast were a chorus of screaming and gunshots, and Red got off of Frank quickly to pull him up. 

"We need to go!"   
  


Frank wasted no time in getting up and rushing over to the group outside the buildings. As he expected, multiple gang members threw explosives and had an all-out brawl with their group. Great. Just what they needed.

Red immediately jumped into the fight, punching and kicking at anyone that got in his way. Frank followed behind, shooting at the gang member's shoulders and kneecaps to slow them down. The battle became an array of discord when the Unspoken members with superpowers were added to the mix. Smoke clouds appeared on all sides, and there were shards of ice spiking up from the ground. A few lightning bolts zipped past them. It was pure madness. 

The gang members began to retreat, hopping onto their motorcycles and getting into their vans for a quick escape. They threw a few explosives to slow everyone down, forcing them to take cover wherever they can. Frank dragged Red away from the fight and into an alleyway, waiting for the explosions out while Red grimaced at the sound.

After the dust had settled, Frank thought they would retreat themselves, but Eyesore was not having any of it.   
  


"Aperture! You know where their location is!" Eyesore shouted, and Aperture quickly spawned another row of portals for everyone to jump through.   
  


Frank felt Red pull away from him and ran straight into the portal. What the hell was Red thinking? The others jumped in, and Frank followed them behind. He tried going to the same portal Red went through, but he only ended up at a far corner of an alleyway. Frank knew where he was. They were still in Hell's Kitchen, but they were closer to the upper parts of it now. The ground shook from underneath him as car alarms went off. It was a sign of another explosion happening, and Frank saw the smoke that came from the far end buildings of the hideouts. Frank ran across to see people running from commotion and shops closing themselves with metal gates. He continued to follow the smoke, evading anyone in his way. A shout from across warned him to watch out, and Frank managed to dodge a motorcycle that was on fire. More vehicles were on fire as Frank pushed through, and he found more abandoned motorcycles covered in flames. 

What the hell are they doing to them?  
  


Suddenly, someone pulled Frank away from the chaos into the back corner. He was ready to fight off whoever did so until a familiar white mask and a very angry PI greeted him.

"Frank, what the fuck is going on?!" Jessica hissed while Spector was speaking through a comm, probably talking to Frenchie.

"I could ask the same thing, but I have a feeling that I already know what's happening," Frank grunted before adding, "Wait, how the hell did you find me?" 

"We know what your Unspoken outfit looks like, asshole," Jessica replied. "Not only that, you were the only one out of the small crowd of people running _towards_ the danger rather than away from it. Be glad we heard all the commotion before you showed up."

"Speaking of which, I need to go help them," Spector said. He took a look over at Frank and tilted his head. "Where's Matt?" 

"He's still with the Unspoken. I have to go find him before it gets worse." Frank responded hastily. 

A scream broke through, and Spector covered his head with his hood. "I have to go! Be careful and good luck in finding your man."

Hey, wait a minute—

As Spector ran off, Jessica was still at his side, looking pissed. "I don't know what you're waiting for, but you need to go too. We all have a job to do." 

"Hold on, I need you to take this," Frank said as he passed over his duffel bag. "I found files and flash drives that connected the Unspoken to A.I.M. Take 'em back to the Lieberman household, let Curtis know, and look them over as soon as you can." 

Jessica wanted to ask more, but the flaming vehicles made their way across the street again, and she shook it off. "Right, I got it. You should go now!"

Frank thanked her before he followed the smoke again, knowing that Jessica will keep the files safe. At the end of the street, he found a few Unspoken members throwing dynamite into the hideouts. The superpowered ones were creating as much mayhem as possible while also helping others burn down the buildings and vehicles. Frank looked around desperately, trying to find anything that can point to where Red was. It was eventually answered when a couple of Unspoken members ran from the flames, telling anyone nearby one thing:  
  


"We can fall back! Infrared has it all covered!" 

No… they didn't mean…   
  


Why would Red… 

_No…_

Red was burning down the hideouts. 

He _never_ did that before during missions. Even when it seemed necessary, Red never participated in an act like that, undercover or not. Not only was it terrible on his senses, but Red also wouldn't do it for the sake of his moral compass.   
  


Frank had to find him. 

He had to get past the Unspoken members and find Red. The mission can eat shit for all he cared, and Frank needed to find Red and _knock some sense into him._

Frank managed to find Red behind the building’s far ends, seeing the familiar burgundy coat slipping away from the smoke. 

"Red!" Frank called out to him, and Red turned around, tossing away a gallon of gasoline before he clenched his hands into fists. "Easy Red, it's just me," Frank approached him slowly.

"Frank?" 

"Yeah," Frank answered before he grabbed Red by the arm and guided him away from the smoke. When the coast was clear, Frank didn't hesitate in letting his frustrations out. "Do you want to enlighten me on what the _fuck_ you were doing back there?" 

"What do you want from me?" Red growled. "I'm only following orders like I'm supposed to! We have a mission, remember?" 

"Bullshit! Are you starting to get into arson now? What the hell happened to only doing the least amount of damage? What happened to still helping people even when we're on the inside?" Frank was done with the excuses. Done with the lies and done with the distrust between each other. "Is this what you've been up to when you go on a mission led by Eyesore? Sometimes you come home with the smell of smoke on your clothes, and then you say you weren't participating? What kind of idiot do you take me for, Red?" 

"One that doesn't know when to piss off, that's for sure," Red glared at him, probably baring his teeth behind the bandana. "You need to get out of here before Smokescreen finds out that you're missing." 

"I don't give a shit whether or not that prick finds out, and I want some answers!" Frank snarled.

"We're not in a good spot right now," Red lowered his voice, prompting Frank to do the same. 

"Fine, but I'm still not leaving until you tell me the truth," Frank said, still seething from the entire ordeal. "You're going too far in this. You know that, don't ya, Red?"

"It's _progress,_ Frank. We're making actual fucking progress, and we're so close to beating them," Now Red sounded like a goddamn maniac. "Look how much we've done in one night! The evidence linking the Unspoken and A.I.M. together was what we needed!"

Frank gawked at the way Red was speaking to him. "Are you even listening to yourself? Red, I'm not talking about the damn evidence. I’m talking about _you._ I'm talking about what you're doing right now. What the hell has gotten into you…" 

Before Red could say anything else, Frank took a good look at him, his eyes landing at his eyes that were obscured by the hood he was wearing. Frank pulled it down, despite Red's trying to move away from him, now having a better look at his eyes. 

Shit… they were completely bloodshot, and Red's eye color looked grayer than usual…   
  


Just like the other Unspoken members.   
  


Especially the ones that never came back. 

"Listen to me, Red, you need to stay away from Eyesore," Frank told him carefully. "I know why there are suicides within the Unspoken, and it's because of that son of a bitch. So many of them are scared shitless because of him. They would rather take their own lives just to spare themselves from whatever hell Eyesore would bring down upon them. We need to do the final plan soon before it gets worse." 

Red scoffed, pushing him away. "How the hell do you know that? Eyesore wouldn't be able to do that, and he takes away their negative emotion not…" Red trailed off, his eyes going wide as the realization was suddenly dawning upon him. 

He knew.   
  


Eyesore had powers, after all, and Red _knew._

"He wouldn't…" Red whispered.  
  


Frank went over to grab Red's hand, planting it firmly onto his chest. "Red, listen to me. I need you to _listen,_ for once in your life. You know I would never lie to you— you should know this by now. Why wouldn't I tell you about something so important as Eyesore being behind the suicides? I have so much evidence to back up my claim, so your lawyer brain should know _better_ than to accuse me of not knowing what the fuck I'm talking about. You know my heartbeat better than anyone else's in this goddamn city, so you need to _listen_ to it and learn the truth." 

Frank knew his heartbeat was steady, and he just hoped that Red's mind was stable enough to figure everything out. 

Red was staring out into nothing, listening to Frank's heartbeat while also going pale. He was accepting the truth. Frank finally knocked some sense into him. 

"We need to get everyone to finalize the plan," Frank repeated. "We can't waste any more time."

It seemed like it would be turning out for the better until Frank saw a familiar rage burst through in Red's eyes. He lowered his hand from Frank's chest slowly as it was already turning into a fist. 

"Yes, we should," Red said ominously, and Frank did _not_ like the way he sounded. "I've obtained Eyesore's trust at this point. I know what I have to do." 

"Wait a minute, Red. Don't do anything—"

Red turned around and ran off, parkouring his way around the building and disappearing into the smoke. Frank swore under his breath as he ran after him, pushing through a few pieces of debris to try and find him.

Nothing went in his favor as Red left without a trace.

Frank took one final look around the area before deciding to follow the last group and go through the remaining portal. He was back at the main headquarters in no time, and he hoped that Red had made it through as well. God, he wished he did. 

Aperture gave him some relief when they gave their report to Animus. Everyone in the mission had made it back in one piece, only suffering a few scrapes and cuts. Animus and Smokescreen were pleased with the report and even went as far as commending the group for their success. While they did a quick briefing, Frank left the group to find Red, hoping that he was still in the factory. The burner phone in his pocket vibrated, and Frank pulled it out as it contained two messages:  
  


_"Rutherford Caine. Elijah Caine. Monica Rappaccini."_

_"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'll be back soon. Don't wait up. He will know."_

God damn it, Red… 

Frank left HQ after the text message and drove back to Hell's Kitchen. The empty passenger seat taunted him throughout the entire drive, and Frank couldn't help but check Red's apartment first before heading back to the house. After a few tries with the keys, the empty apartment greeted Frank. Red wasn't here. The only thing that sat waiting for him were duffel bags and papers that covered the tables. He took the files with him when he left the apartment and made a mental note to read them later. 

It continued to mock him throughout the drive to the Lieberman household, and Frank didn't feel like silencing his paranoia with the radio. He entered the house as his life depended on it, and just like the apartment, he walked into a place that held nothing but silence. Red wasn't here either.

Frank wanted to go back and find him, but he can't. The last message held a threat that shook Frank to the core, forcing him to stay put until the morning came through.  
  


_Don't wait up.  
  
_

_He will know._   
  



	15. Beyond the Shattered Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowly reaching the end of this arc and the next chapter is going to be a long and bumpy ride. Keep an eye out for the additional tag warnings that will be added soon. Here's the trigger warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Psychological manipulation/torture tw  
> Mental breakdown tw  
> Sensory overload tw  
> Dissociation tw  
> Arson tw
> 
> Many thanks to Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

XV

  
  
  
  
  


Fire was dangerous. 

That's easy to understand. 

It was a natural response to be afraid of fire, mostly when the flames were far too close and surpassing the range of safety.  
  


Matt didn't deal with fire hazards that often during his Daredevil days. There were a couple of instances of helping people escape a burning building. It was terrifying, of course, but Matt swallowed the instinctual fear to push forward and help others. He was the Man Without Fear. He did what was necessary. 

Nowadays, however, the familiar heat that came from the embers was starting to turn into something Matt desired. Never did Matt expect himself to develop a guilty pleasure over arson. It was incredulous to believe that he found some sort of satisfaction when burning down gang hideouts and destroying private property. He knew it was wrong, but Eyesore threw his common sense out the window, and the cycle of arson would repeat.   
  


It was better this way.   
  


If Frank were in his place instead, it would've been a completely different type of disaster. 

It would've been more challenging for Matt to stop him. He believed that it was better if he was the pawn rather than Frank. That's what Matt always admired in Frank: he knew what to do, no matter the situation. He still had a backup plan. Just in case anything went wrong. 

Matt hoped that whatever backup plan Frank had that would be enough. 

  
  
  


The first session felt like a dream; Eyesore removed any pestering emotions and lowered Matt's inhibitions down to where those unholy thoughts crossed his mind again. He welcomed them, this time, rather than punish them. Matt didn't care what happened when he was Infrared. It was all a part of the mission, and it was simple steps to get closer to Eyesore. If he obtained the Unspoken leader's trust, Matt would have enough answers to solve their problems. The possibilities would be endless at that point, and Matt strived to make the best of it. It had gotten him and the group far enough to stop the Unspoken in their drug trades and kidnappings. It might as well help him obtain more secrets to destroy. 

At the end of the Bay Ridge fire, Matt felt like he had woken up from a fever dream. There was no guilt eating at his soul, no regret, nothing— just the steady drop of adrenaline and a hazy feeling that wrapped around him. A side effect. That's what the other members told him. It only happened once, and that was it.

After that night, Matt didn't feel the side effects again.   
  


The sessions that followed afterward became nothing more than a task that needed to be done. They were useful and integral for the mission, and Matt knew it would be worth it towards the end. Each session, Matt took every opportunity given to him to obtain Eyesore's trust. The older man didn't seem like someone that would open up so quickly, but Matt managed to get on his right side whenever he completed the arson missions. 

Secrets were shared during their fleeting moments of peace, and Matt began to learn about the past. Before the Unspoken was created, there was A.I.M., which confirmed the connection behind the two organizations. Eyesore slipped out many essential details during his recollections, such as A.I.M.'s original purpose before their hatred for superpowered beings. How they wanted to create advancements in technology but later fell into corruption and greed. That was how the intel started; Eyesore would bring up the past and then leave Matt to ponder over the rest. He would even bring up some musings of better control over the government or more powerful allies to back him up. They didn't sound concerning enough for Matt to mention with the group— because it was so _absurd_ and downright _crazy_ — so he passed it off as old man ramblings, longing for power. It continued in that format after a few more missions until Matt began to make progress. 

The gang hideouts were falling apart one by one, and smoke was starting to become a familiar scent that should be known for danger, but it felt like nothing to Matt. It made Eyesore happy, and if Matt was making the older man pleased with the progress, he was succeeding. Eyesore shared more information about A.I.M. and had even gone as far as telling Matt about his time there when he was one of its directors. How he and his brother, Elijah, worked alongside the head scientist of A.I.M., who they referred to as "Scientist Supreme.” How Eyesore developed his powers during an experiment and other miscellaneous aspects. 

What got to Matt the most was how the Unspoken started in the first place: Eyesore and his brother pitched the idea of using inhumans and mutants for A.I.M. 's gain instead of exterminating them. The head scientist refused the idea. The two brothers went against her, and in the end, the head scientist murdered Elijah, and Eyesore had to resign, taking a few A.I.M. members with him.

Matt knew he had to tell Frank and the group about this information, but the sessions continued to take up his time. It was a piss poor excuse, but most of Matt’s time has been taken up by the Unspoken and the mission. Matt's daily life had suffered from it to the point where he had to stop his pro bono cases as Jonathan Grace just to keep some of his sanity in check. Even then, it was hard to find any time to tell Frank everything he needed to know.  
  
  


The next best thing was to share the intel with Madani. 

"I'll take this into consideration, Daredevil," Madani said during the one night where Matt had time for one quick phone call. "But it's not enough concrete proof to connect the Unspoken with A.I.M... unless you can figure out Eyesore's real name and get a recording, your words won't cut it." 

Madani needed names to look them up in the archives in case anything useful popped up. Matt knew that with her CIA work, there had to be some files that were related to A.I.M., and without something like a name, it wasn't going to be an easy search.

Then again, the last resort was never supposed to be an easy mission in the first place.

Matt was starting to become grateful that he and Frank now had more allies to help them. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen had been missing for quite some time now, and Matt was glad that the others were continuing their path of vigilantism. Progress continued, and the mission was working in their favor. The only person that wasn't too happy about it was Frank. He had expressed concerns over what Matt was doing during Eyesore's sessions, despite the overall chaos they were creating within the Unspoken. Matt wasn't making Frank upset on purpose (not anymore, at least), but what he was doing as Infrared was _working._ It was good progress, and he had to continue for the mission to be a success. Until then, Matt wasn't going to stop anytime soon. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Time alone with Frank was something Matt missed. 

Despite the numbness in guilt, Matt _tried_ to feel bad, and the lingering loneliness was something that not even Eyesore could remove.   
  


The quick briefing at the Lieberman household a couple of weeks ago was the last time Matt talked to Frank. Matt had forgotten to share the intel he had already told Madani about, so now they had to catch up on all of it. He had already shared a few theories of his with Eyesore's true intentions and the Unspoken's, but the group needed to formulate a final plan to take them down once and for all. 

Before they could do so, Matt wanted a private meeting with just Frank. He had to tell him about, well, everything else. What Eyesore had done to him, what kind of power he held, and his intentions with the entire organization. Matt didn't want to keep leaving Frank in the dark for too long, and with the truth at hand, they can create the basis of a final plan.   
  


"Y'know, I don't remember the last time I've been in your apartment, Red," Frank commented when he stepped inside. He carried a briefcase that contained some of the files and the notes Matt left behind in the house. 

Matt chuckled lightly. "Yeah, it's been a while." 

They settled at the coffee table in the living room, which wasn't the ideal set up for the pile of documents and essential items, but Matt wasn't going to complain about it. After all, their first briefings before discovering the Unspoken started in the living room. It was almost nostalgic to sit across Frank and talk about the mission before deciding the last resort before figuring out the three gangs. However, the present reminded Matt what they were here for, and he couldn't wait to end this horrendous mission finally.   
  


"Red, are you listening?" 

"Hmm?" Frank’s voice brought Matt back from his thoughts, and he mentally cursed himself for getting so easily distracted. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." 

Across from him, Frank sat with a contemplative expression, judging by how tense his shoulders were. Frank wasn't hiding his stress anymore, and Matt almost felt something close to shame. _Almost._ It wasn't quite there yet, but at least he can pretend to feel bad. 

"Where's your head at, Red?" Frank asked.

"I'm still here," Matt insisted, despite the urge to hunt down gang members and burn down their hideouts was distracting him. "I just heard something, and I wanted to make sure it wasn't anything nearby." 

Frank's reserved exhale gave him some sort of relief, but Matt didn't know if he believed him or not. "I need your head to be _here,_ Red. We're setting up the final plan for the mission, and we only have one shot in this."

"Of course, we just need to plan the day all three leaders will be present," Matt nodded, trying to relax as he leaned back against his chair. "I know when Eyesore will be present; he's planning to speak with Animus and Smokescreen about something big." 

"Do you have any idea about what it is?"

"It's probably on A.I.M. for all we know, and he mentioned them too many times last night. He made us gather equipment and flash drives from their old hideouts so that the Unspoken would have them." 

"Then we have something to gain during the ambush," Frank said, the sound of hope right at the edge of his tone.   
  


They started a basis of the final plan: Marc, Frenchie, and Kamala will create a quick distraction for the Unspoken members, and then Madani will send in her squad to attack. Matt will try to guide the leaders out of the fray while Frank gathers any evidence from their offices. Jessica and Trish will fight alongside Madani's team while Curtis watches everyone's backs. If the Unspoken leaders figure out the truth and realize Matt and Frank were never on their side, they'll be prepared for it. 

Matt had fate in the overall plan, and he was already grateful that they had enough people to finally get the job done. 

"We're gathering everyone tomorrow to hear out this plan," Frank said after they had formulated an escape route. "Once they agree with the details and Madani gives us her final say, then we're good to go. It'll be one hell of a night." 

Matt couldn't help but chuckle at that. "It wouldn't be the first; we've dealt with missions similar to this." 

"I know, but this took us far too long to wrap up," Frank added, but there was a smile, Matt could tell. "As long as you're going to be there, this should work."

"Aww, you couldn't do it without me?" Here they go again with the teasing. 

Frank was taken aback by the remark, and soon enough, he gave a quick snicker— it wasn't full-on laughter, but Matt took whatever he could get. "Yeah, I don't want you disappearing again. I'm the one with the ghost name, remember?"

"Sorry, _Revenant,"_ Matt replied with a grin. "But I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"You better not, I'll kick your god damn ass if you even think about flaking out," Frank threatened, but it was a half-hearted attempt in sounding aggressive. It was severe, but Matt knew he wouldn't hurt him again. They closed that chapter a long time ago. 

"I would never do that to you," Matt said, and he started to notice how genuine he began sounding. Maybe Marc was right; perhaps he has been getting all soft and protective over Frank.   
  


Maybe he…   
  


_No, don't think that_. Matt's mind intervened, enough to silence the warm feeling in his chest. _This was not the time.  
  
_

Frank made a sound that was the closest indication of an audible smile. He began organizing the files again and rolled up the blueprints. Before Matt could let his mind wander off to the pyromania, Frank's voice brought him back to reality. 

"After this, I'm down to sleep for an entire week. How about you?"

Ah, right. There's going to be an _after_ when the mission's done. Matt never thought about what to do afterward. He was so focused on the Unspoken that it never came across his mind. Back then, Matt was so ready for the mission to be over so that Frank would leave and he could return to his lonely, alcoholic corner. He was prepared to say goodbye to the Punisher and go back to his empty patrols as Daredevil. 

Now? Matt was starting to realize that he didn't want Frank to leave anymore. 

After everything they've been through with the mission… Matt didn't want to part ways just yet. 

"Sleeping for an entire week sounds fantastic after all of this bullshit," Matt said, and he finally got a laugh out of Frank. "But then after that, I don't know; I can go back to work, I guess? I feel bad enough that you and Marc are paying for the Lieberman household _and_ my apartment." 

Frank scoffed. "'Course you're not gonna let that go. I was hoping for a better answer than work, Red."

"And what were you hoping I would say?" 

"I don't know, a vacation or something." 

Matt raised an eyebrow. "A vacation?" 

"Yeah, you heard me right," Frank confirmed. "A vacation would be nice, maybe even a road trip."

"A road trip," Matt parroted, and the idea of a road trip after a week-long nap didn't sound bad at all. Especially with the implication that Frank was going with him. 

"It's not a bad idea, right?" Frank asked carefully. 

Matt couldn't help but smile. "It's not, Frank. And it would be fun to get out of the city if any of the others wants to join." 

He heard Frank's breath hitch for a moment. "I actually thought it would be just the two of us. Get some space from, well, everything and everyone." 

"Oh, so you want to play lone wolf again, but with a plus-one?" Matt teased. 

"Sure, why not. It can save us a lot of trouble," Frank said, and Matt could've _sworn_ he sensed heat rising to Frank's face. 

"Sounds good to me," Matt said, and the awkward tension from before slowly slipped away. It felt familiar again, talking about the simple things. 

Matt cherished that night of tranquility with just him and Frank chatting. The next morning, they gathered everyone involved to talk about the final plan. All parties, including Madani, agreed on the plan, and the due date was set for everyone to remember. The week of said due date approached them quickly, and Matt made the most out of it while he continued to fulfill his role as Eyesore's most trusted pawn. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


It was another mission connected to A.I.M.

Eyesore insisted that this one was a big one, so Matt wasted no time preparing.  
  


Matt had everything he needed in his coat: matches, a few lighters, gunpowder canisters, and even a couple of smoke grenades if the police showed up. Some of his teammates carried heavier artillery and some gasoline tanks, but it seemed like they were there for extra security. 

From what Eyesore told them, it was an office complex in Hell's Kitchen that used to belong to many of A.I.M.'s top scientists. There were essential files that had links to allies outside the country and abandoned projects that Eyesore seemed desperate to get his hands on. He also mentioned that they would be meeting up with Smokescreen's group later in the night. After explaining it to the general group, Eyesore separated Matt from the group to tell him more details about the mission. A few of those files had evidence of Eyesore and the Scientist Supreme's involvement in multiple inhuman projects. Matt knew he needed to steal some of those files as more evidence against the Unspoken, and hopefully, they'll be the ones with Eyesore's name on it. 

When they reached the offices, Matt and the others went to work in finding the files. Eyesore informed him that the ones he was looking for were on the second floor of the main building inside the primary office. After retrieving the files, Matt was about to head back to Eyesore until he heard an old static in the other offices. He investigated briefly, running his fingertips across the tables to feel a few notes scattered everywhere. There was a moment whether Matt should take them or not. They could be entirely unimportant for all he knew, especially when Eyesore specifically grabbed the files from the main office. However, Matt didn't want to take any more risks, so he grabbed the notes from the office, folded them, and then tucked them into the inner pockets of his coat. 

The sound of multiple boots and heartbeat came into his radar, and Matt guessed that Smokescreen's group had arrived. One of those heartbeats belonged to Frank, who was already exploring the building himself. As much as Matt wanted to meet up with him, he couldn't keep Eyesore waiting. 

Back on the main floor, Matt approached Eyesore and handed him the main files. There was no one else on the same floor as far as he could tell, and Eyesore gave out a pleased hum for his completed task. 

Eyesore skimmed through the files quickly, and under his breath, he muttered out names. Three names. Ones that sounded important enough to keep a mental note.

_"Rutherford Caine, Elijah Caine, Monica Rappaccini… mhmm…"_

Matt wasn't sure if Eyesore realized he could still hear him, but then the older man spoke up.   
  


"You did a great job, son," Eyesore said softly. "This was the big one that I needed."

"There were a few notes I found on the second floor," Matt told him, just in case. Frank's heartbeat came through again, and Matt realized that the other man was on the same floor. He had hoped Frank would still be on another floor, but now Matt could only hope Frank would read the room and stay hidden. 

"Perfect, hand them over," Eyesore responded. Matt only gave him half of the notes he found and left the rest in his coat. More sounds of papers being skimmed over. Eyesore didn't mutter any of the names again, but he did read the notes thoroughly. They turned out to be a list of A.I.M. directors, with Eyesore and his brother included in the notes. 

_The two names. They both had Caine as a surname_. 

"We won't be needing these anytime soon, so I'll be glad to discard them…" Eyesore said before he leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "This is what we need to turn this entire organization around. As soon as I contact these directors, we will have a better chance of gaining access to government property."   
  


_Shit,_ not this again.   
  


It sounded familiar, and Matt's mind was desperately trying to put together all the critical instances from every session with Eyesore. They always felt like dreams to the point where Matt had to note any semblance of evidence. Eyesore had mentioned it before plenty of times, but he still made it sound as if it was impossible to achieve. The talk of empty spots within the government, contacts with Latveria, and the destruction of A.I.M. sounded so bizarre that Matt didn't think it was serious. For God's sake, Eyesore talked about meeting with Latveria's _king_ for a government takeover. How could _anyone_ take that seriously? It was just Eyesore rambling nonsense, right?

Frank met up with him the second Eyesore had left the building. He wanted to know what Eyesore told him, but Matt had to keep his mouth shut if Eyesore turned around at the last minute. Standing in the middle of an empty, worn down office building was not the ideal place for sharing intel. Before Frank could say anything else, Matt heard a gang member set off a detonator. He didn't hesitate to tackle Frank to the ground in an attempt to shield him from the blast radius.   
  


It always had to be explosions when it came to Unspoken missions. 

They rushed out of the building to join the fight with the others. It was another typical gang ambush where they had too much fun tossing around explosives wherever they pleased. Matt jumped into the battle to ward off anyone going near Frank, sending punches and kicks without letting them get back up. Everything became muddled once the superpowered members began using their abilities to change the entire terrain. Matt was in the middle of anarchy until he heard more explosives go off. Frank was next to him again, and they have been pulled away from the debris and into an alleyway. Matt couldn't help but grimace at the sound. Too many explosives going off at the same time was sending his radar into despair. 

The gang members retreated, but Eyesore's angry yelling caught his attention. He was yelling at the member known as Aperture to create more portals and then swiftly turned to face Matt. 

_"You know what to do,"_ he whispered. 

Matt felt himself perk up, and a rush of energy overwhelmed him.   
  


He knew what to do.   
  


He had another chance again.   
  


The portals opened up with a distinct, subtle hum that vibrated through the atmosphere. Matt left Frank in the alleyway and ran into one of them to find himself in a different location. A few other Unspoken members were already there, and some were shouting while setting vehicles on fire. Matt managed to figure out from the screaming that they were at the gang hideouts, and judging by his teammates' cheers, all they had to do was burn the place to the ground. 

So be it then. 

Matt listened in for anyone inside the building. So far, most gang members were already starting to escape as soon as the first flames began to erupt. A small group of them tried to fight some of the Unspoken members with little to no luck. Matt went ahead and met up with his teammates inside the building, destroying property and becoming a part of the mayhem. Again, it all felt so unreal to him that it was happening; the next thing Matt knew, he was pouring gasoline all over the floor and dropping lighters onto the trail. 

To hell with these buildings and hell with the gang members. If this was the way to get them out of the city, they might as well set their entire operation on fire to scare them off. 

Matt escaped the smoke through the building’s back entrance, making sure to stay as far away from it as possible. Throughout the entire ordeal, he had been distracted because someone was right there with him, shouting at him. After Matt had registered the heartbeat, he realized it was Frank that was yelling at him. He sounded furious, enough to make anyone cower if they were near him. However, Matt wasn't afraid of him, and he didn't have time to humor him right now.  
  


Until Frank brought up the flames.   
  


_God damn it…_

It was only a matter of time before Frank found out about Matt's arsonist tendencies. 

They argued about the mission for what felt like hours when it had only been minutes. Frank was pissed off at him for following orders and _keeping up with the undercover role._ Matt thought it was ridiculous for Frank to get mad at him for doing what he was supposed to do for the mission. It was progress! They needed to gain enough progress so that they had a better chance at the final plan. What part of the whole mission was Frank _not_ understanding?

Everything then slowly went to a halt when Frank brought up the suicides within the Unspoken. 

He claimed it was because of Eyesore, and for a split second, Matt didn't want to believe that. All it took was Frank to grab his hand and made Matt _listen_ to him to understand the truth finally. 

How could he ever doubt Frank's word? 

Mostly when Matt had dealt with Eyesore's power _first hand._

 _Eyesore was a dangerous man,_ Matt’s mind whispered. _He will get in the way of the final plan._

Matt didn't wait for Frank's response after he realized the truth. He had to find Eyesore before he caused any more damage. 

There was an open portal left for him to take, and when Matt jumped through it, he was back at the Unspoken headquarters. The warehouses were empty and vacant except for one heartbeat that told Matt otherwise. Before he went to confront the older man, Matt opened up his phone to dictate Frank’s two messages. One had the three names that Eyesore revealed, and the other was a way to reassure Frank. Matt knew Frank would try and find him afterward, but he didn't want to risk Frank getting caught up in the confrontation. He didn't want Eyesore anywhere near Frank. It was a shoddy plan, but Matt was doing everything he could to keep Frank safe.   
  


_Last resort…_ a memory reminded him. 

Matt entered one of the far end warehouses that sat at the edge of the docks. It was probably the oldest out of all the other warehouses, but it was one that Matt never visited. 

The subtle smell of smoke came from inside the warehouse. It was a small pile that was burning paper from what Matt's nose picked up. Eyesore continued to dump the rest of the sheets into the small fire when the doors opened, stomping it out with his shoe afterward. 

Eyesore didn't turn around when he greeted Matt. "What brings you here, Infrared? Don’t you remember that you finished the job?

"Yes, I remember; I came here to ask you something," Matt said. 

"Spit it out." Eyesore said.

"The people that keep disappearing here— the ones that commit suicide— they all do it out of fear, and I guess that you're behind their fear, aren't you?" Matt questioned. 

A small scoff came from Eyesore, who kicked at the last remains of the files. His heartbeat was as steady as it can be, and the nonchalant behavior was only sending Matt's temperament into a spiral. 

"People kill themselves every day, Infrared," Eyesore said casually. "This shouldn't be new to you."

Matt glared at him. "No, it's not, but the question still stands: are you the reason why Unspoken members have been killing themselves? They're so afraid of you that they would do _anything_ to stay away. Even if it means taking their own life." It sounded too much like the grunts that worked for Kingpin. It was the same kind of fear that would lead a person to choose the last resort option to save their skin and even others in the process. 

"Well, if you must know, it's not _my_ fault. Your teammates continue to fail in the simple tasks I give them," Eyesore grunted. "I don't reward failure; you know that more than anyone. Repeated failures of tasks necessary for the Unspoken's success is detrimental to our progress. I can't just slap them on the wrist and tell them never to do it again! They need to _learn_ from their mistakes so that they can improve. Without improvement, they repeat the same mistakes, and our plans go into chaos." 

Matt was baffled by how Eyesore was explaining his reasoning. Even though he wasn't giving a direct answer, everything he was saying was enough for Matt to conclude. 

"So what? You mess with their heads, is that it?" Matt asked through gritted teeth. "You remove their sense of judgment and then send their minds into turmoil?" 

"It's called _discipline,_ " Eyesore said smoothly. "They live, and they learn from their mistakes, and the one thing they learn is that they don't _ever_ disappoint me again."

"That's not discipline, that's control, that's _abuse!"_ Matt hissed. 

"Why the hell do you care about them? They're not your friends. They’re just strangers— co-workers at best. They're not your concern." 

"They're people who are dying because of you!"

"People who are _useless_ to me and the Unspoken. If they can't use the best of their abilities to succeed, then they may as well be better off dead." 

Frank was right. He was telling the truth when he talked about Eyesore. 

This bastard had to be stopped. 

Matt went ahead and approached Eyesore without thinking, stalking towards him like a predator ready to strike. He clenched his hands into fists and his lower lip curled into a snarl. 

Before Matt could throw the first punch and knock Eyesore off his feet, his body temperature dropped drastically. He couldn't move— couldn't make a single muscle twitch when his mind suddenly went quiet. The silence was unbearable when it came to what was happening, and soon, the rising dread started to choke him. Eyesore still stood in his place, staring Matt down as he clicked his tongue, which sounded like a blast going off right next to him. 

"Did you seriously think I was going to stand here and let you try and assault me? Who do you take me for, Infrared?" Eyesore asked, scolding him as if he was a misbehaving child. "Honestly, you should've known _better."_

Once Eyesore had stopped talking, Matt's mind was sent into haywire. The dread turned into guilt, which then spawned waves of misery and regrets that coursed through him like poison. It felt like his mind was getting torn apart. Matt didn't even realize he was sobbing and gasping for breath. It was the worst pain he has ever dealt with, and it wasn't even _physical_ pain. It was years of depression and abandonment that came rushing back towards Matt. It engulfed him like a tidal wave. The months of mourning losing everyone close to him now forced him to remember that _he could've done something to save them._ The memories of Foggy and Karen disappearing right before him racked him with the guilt and knowledge of how they were _never_ coming back. 

They're _gone._

He's _gone_. 

Everything around him sounded too quiet and too loud all at the same time, and Matt couldn't help but fall to his knees. Matt clutched his head to brace the next wave of despair, but he couldn't focus on anything but the intensity of his senses. Too much was happening. It was like the world had turned into static. The brutal force of every broken heart, every betrayed voice, and every scream he had caused shot through him. Matt was begging for it to stop. It was hard to even _think_ at this point because _too much was happening._

Too much. Too little. Loud. Quiet. Pain. Emptiness. All of it was happening at the same time, and it was suffocating him. It made his body ache, and his insides turn from the effects. He couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't _think._

Matt's mind felt like it was being pulled apart then shattered into pieces, pieces that he can't pick up. Pieces that are scattered all over and refused to assemble again. This was hell. This was his punishment. All of this to finally feel the burning end of what he had done.   
  


Suddenly, it became silent again. 

The air shifted around him, and the emotions came crashing down, disintegrating into nothing again. Matt was still kneeling on the ground, his mins frozen from everything. Christ, he was shaking. Violent shudders went through him, and Matt was still trying to catch his breath. 

"See? You're tougher than the rest of them, and that isn't even the worst I can do," Eyesore began, his voice sounding distant at first before it got louder. "Most of your teammates would've been begging for death by now, but you took it like a champ. It makes you useful to me, and I hope this made you understand what happens when you _fuck_ with me." 

Matt was heaving by the time he managed to get himself somewhat together. His lungs were working in his favor, and his body temperature regulated itself. However, his mind was still in multiple pieces that gave Matt difficulty piecing it back together. 

"Do you understand, Infrared?" Eyesore asked again, his hand grabbing Matt's chin. Matt didn't sense Eyesore's hand— he _couldn't_ sense it, as everything felt blurry. Matt slowly nodded anyway. He hoped that it was enough to suffice a right answer for Eyesore, just so that he wouldn't break his mind again. 

There was a satisfied hum. "Good; don't disappoint me again." And with that, Eyesore walked away from him, leaving Matt alone in an empty warehouse with the mess he left behind within his head. 

Matt did the best he could to recollect his thoughts, his emotions, everything. He wanted to move, but his body refused to get up and take another step, fearing that he would keel over again. Matt forced himself towards the warehouse wall, using it as a support to get him to sit down somewhere— anywhere. Some old benches were against the walls, so Matt sought refuge and placed himself on them. The world turned against him as he lay on the wood, and Matt could do nothing but shudder against it. He felt sick, and his head wasn't doing any better than the rest of his body. The only thing he could do now was sleep. Nothing more. 

Matt closed his eyes, and he silently prayed to god for some strength and forgiveness. 

Praying was something he hadn't done in so long, and it had never felt so foreign to him than at that moment. 

Matt drifted off, and his mind still felt like broken glass pieces. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The morning didn't register itself until the subtle sounds of the city woke him up. 

Matt stayed there, laying against the bench for some time to get himself together. He still felt sick, but it wasn't as bad as last night. His radar and other senses went back to normal, but the dread that choked him had settled itself at the center of his chest. Slowly, Matt pushed himself up, his arms shaking slightly from the effort. 

The memory of last night and what he had gone through repeated in his head, a forever stain of the pain he experienced. It was a horrific experience that Matt never wanted to go through. He didn't want _anyone_ to go through it. Eyesore had planned on initially using Frank for his missions and suddenly made anger flare up within Matt. The familiar feeling of rage soothed him in a way that made the Devil rear its head and howl for vengeance. 

It woke up Matt completely. 

He forced himself to get up from the bench, ignoring the aches in his legs as he exited the warehouse. It was early in the day, so there weren't a lot of Unspoken members nearby. As he traveled through the junkyard and into the dead corners of the city, Matt fumed about last night's events. Eyesore expected him to crumble— to bend and break from his mental state and to oblige by his command. Matt had to _laugh_ at that. The older man thought he had his finger wrapped around his mind. 

Eyesore was sadly mistaken. 

Matt arrived at his apartment after going through empty subway stations and jumping to each building nearby. The rooftop access was open for him to get in, and Matt's body went into autopilot as his mind continued to dissect itself around its broken-self. A few duffel bags were left behind by Frank and Marc that contained different weapons to his liking. All shoved into his closet and storage compartments. Sets of blades clattered onto the floor as Matt ripped the bags open, picking up the cases that held the knives in place. He organized each weapon across the floor, and soon enough, Matt was creating a set for himself to use. Marc had developed a few batons and knives for Matt to use in case he ever needed them.   
  
Of course, Matt insisted that only one set was necessary, so Marc scrapped the idea. Now? Matt changed his mind. He changed his mind on the mission. He changed his mind on how to approach the Unspoken leaders, specifically, how to approach Eyesore. There was no point in waiting for the next day to attack the three of them when only one of them was truly dangerous. The choice of letting Kingpin off the hook for him to rot in prison was _nothing_ to this decision. That choice was a mistake. A mistake that Matt wasn't going to repeat. Eyesore was far more dangerous than anyone he has ever faced, so the answer was clear. He finalized his choice. A few pieces of his mind connected back to each other to agree on one thing:   
  


Matt was going to kill Eyesore.  
  


Frank was probably never going to speak to him again. He would curse him to hell and back and consider Matt a dead man to him.   
  


As much as it broke his heart to acknowledge that fate, Matt had no other choice. 

The files that were inside his coat pockets were taken out and laid out onto the coffee table. Matt took out every piece of evidence he had and left them on the tables. He knew Frank would try and find him later, but right now, he needed to take down Eyesore himself. It might hinder the progress on the final plan, but it was better to take him out now so that they would only have to deal with two Unspoken leaders. 

Matt gathered everything he needed, left his apartment, kept himself away from anyone on the streets, and headed towards Fogwell's Gym. From there, he prepared himself for the next move, and since he knew Eyesore's patterns, it shouldn't be hard to grab his attention. Matt knew he couldn't go up against the older man so quickly, so he decided to go with the plan of trapping Eyesore in a burning building. Eyesore had been planning to take down a few of the warehouses located in the lower parts of Brooklyn, so Matt would get rid of every other former A.I.M. location to do so. He wanted to get Eyesore's attention. He tried to lure him into the last place to destroy, only for Eyesore to suffer under the debris. A part of Matt knew it was illogical, but the Devil inside clawed at his soul, convincing him that it was the perfect plan. Matt's mind still refused to be pieced back together, the shards surrounding him in a lifeless form. 

Hours went by with Matt sparring, using the punching bags to distract him for a moment. His phone rang many times, chanting Frank's name over and over. Despite being nearby, the phone sounded far away from him, and Matt ignored the chanting as he continued to punch and kick at the bag. An hour later, it switched to shouting out Jessica's name, then Marc's, and even Curtis’ name was sounded off. Eventually, Matt went ahead and pried the phone case off to remove the battery and tossed it across the room. 

The next set of hours became a blur, with Matt's body still on autopilot and his mindset on one thought process. When night time came through, Matt left the gym with his gear ready, adjusting the hoodie and bandana as he parkoured his way on each rooftop. Matt remembered the office buildings’ locations from last night. He also recalled a few other abandoned areas that belonged to A.I.M. 

Matt went ahead and made sure every one of those buildings he approached had no one nearby or inside because what he did afterward will lead them into further decay. After the gunpowder was placed, the office equipment was explosive enough to help set the entire building ablaze. Both the group and the Unspoken had everything they needed for evidence. The fire was only just to finish the job. Maybe Matt can grab A.I.M.'s attention as well. Drag their sorry asses to the battlefield and get both corrupt organizations behind bars. 

The warehouses that the Unspoken owned was the next step in operation. Matt took a taxi cab to Brooklyn, and lucky for him, the taxi driver didn't give a shit about what he was doing. At least his mind had the decency to bring some money along with him for any emergencies. 

After the ride, Matt listened to the city as people began to disperse from fire truck sirens. They echoed in his head as he created the same stream of chaos in the warehouses and set them ablaze as well—no more Unspoken territory for them to expand on. No more innocent people to kidnap and lock away in a cold, empty prison. No more brainwashed victims to suffer from Eyesore's powers and end their lives so quickly from it. 

The last thing that needed to be done was for Matt to go after Eyesore himself. The mission the older man planned out weeks ahead was due tonight, and Matt had to get there fast before he missed the opportunity. As he escaped the area of smoke, more distress calls came through muddled in his ears. People were calling the police, reporting fires, and ongoing violence. Matt went over to the nearby hideouts that the gangs had managed to survive in. Only a couple of them were inside, and one of them heard about the fires and began to exit the building. Matt needed a way to get to the last stop. Out of desperation, Matt went for one of the craziest ideas that he can ever conjure up:

Steal a motorcycle. 

Matt walked over to grab the gang member by the shoulder and twist him off the bike. The engine was running, and Matt had no idea why he would do this, but to hell with everything. The gang member didn't have a chance to look at who had assaulted him because Matt was already driving off, depending on his radar sense to guide him through the streets. If Frank were here, he would've been laughing and _screaming_ at the idea of a blind man on a motorcycle— wait a minute, why the hell was Matt thinking about him _now?  
  
_

There was a beat behind him. 

Two of them, but one of them was so distinct, and Matt couldn't miss it. It would be impossible for him to ignore it, even with the motorcycle roaring against the wind.   
  


The familiar purr of the truck's engine was far behind him, but Matt knew who owned the vehicle. It wasn’t new to him. Out of everyone in the city, Frank would figure him out and follow him. He would beat authority figures in a race just to hunt down Matt. 

_Hunt down…_

_Ha!_ As if. 

Matt didn't care. He didn't care that Frank was following him because he picked up the speed and continued his path of mayhem. Matt wanted to put down Eyesore for good, and he wanted to make sure he got there before the Punisher. 

There was still that tinge of regret that plagued his heart, but it didn't have a single base to settle on. Matt's mind continued to be broken, and it barely shifted when the regret begged him to go back. However, it was far too late to go back now.  
  
  


No use convincing a mad arsonist to change his mind.   
  



	16. Last Resort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here's the big one let's go. The next chapters will go back to regular word count and hopefully, the later chapters won't get as long as this one.  
> End of the second arc and it's wordy af, and because its marvel comics why not throw in a dumb plot twist. Have fun with this one but also be careful, especially if you have seen the recent additional tag updates for this chapter.
> 
> Arson m  
> Emotion/Psychological manipulation m  
> Background character deaths tw  
> Major injury tw  
> Burn injury tw 
> 
> Many thanks to Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

XVI

  
  
  


The final plan was set. 

  
  


The Unspoken was going to be taken down in a raid and there will be no turning back from it.

  
  


The meeting went as well as Frank initially thought it would. Everyone agreed on the routes and where to strike, and when Madani gave her word with sending a squad, it made Frank even more satisfied. The anxiety he felt about the plan had settled deep in his gut, and Frank acknowledged it ultimately. There were always instances where the plan might go wrong, but Frank was confident enough that the group would be fine. 

Red was by his side during the briefing, and his presence was enough to comfort Frank. No one would stop them now. They had everything under control. 

After the meeting concluded and everyone left the Lieberman household, Frank and Red were the only ones left. The lonely silence from previous nights had stayed behind now that Red was here. 

"The plan should work as long as we're right on schedule," Red said, then chuckled softly. "I can't wait to stop wearing that stupid bandana and outfit."

"I can get some decent shut-eye for once," Frank commented, and Red hummed in agreement. The entire group deserved to sleep for weeks after the mission was over. 

"I've been thinking about that road trip idea you mentioned."

Frank was cleaning up the table when Red brought up the road trip. It was an idea Frank suggested the last time they were at Red's apartment. He didn't know if the suggestion was too intimate for Red, as Frank implied that it was just going to be the two of them. Frank wanted to use the road trip to explore further whatever the warm feeling he felt around Red was something serious. He wasn't sure if Red felt the same, so maybe the road trip can help get their heads out of planning and away from the city. And he didn't want to part ways just yet. He needed more time with Red. He needed to figure out the future with the Devil by his side. Yes, they would go back to being Daredevil and Punisher, but there had to be something more than just that, right? 

"Yeah?" 

Red nodded. "Yeah, it's not a bad idea. You're right; I think we can all use a vacation after we put this whole Unspoken mission behind us."

Frank smiled at the thought of the two of them traveling the country. Where they would go, he didn't know. They would figure it out while they were on the road, which was enough of an answer for Frank. 

"It'll be refreshing to get out of the city," Frank agreed. "We could anywhere we want." 

Frank caught a glimpse of Red's smile, and he was glad he got to see it happening before him. "I can't wait."   
  
  
  


The peaceful memory of their road trip discussion didn't last long when Frank realized it was the last time he saw Red sane. The awful fires that burned throughout the gang hideouts reminded Frank about the Unspoken's influence on Red— no, on _Eyesore's_ effect on him. 

Frank waited for Red to come back from confronting Eyesore. He took the messages that Red left him and gave him the time needed to get some answers. Frank's patience ran thin after too many circles around the same few blocks in Brooklyn. After checking the apartment and house— both empty, to Frank's disappointment— he called Curtis. 

"He hasn't come back from the factory?" Curtis asked. 

"No, I have no idea if he's still back there or not," Frank told him, his worry taking hold of him. "I want to go and find him, but Red said not to because that manipulative asshole would find out." 

"Do you think Matt can handle the guy on his own?" Curtis asked carefully. 

Frank didn't say anything for the longest time until he finally released a breath he was holding. "I'm not too sure about that, Curt. I trust Red, I know he can handle himself just fine without me," Frank began to tap his foot impatiently. "But Red hasn't been acting like himself lately, especially around Eyesore. The old man has powers, Curt, and I'm certain they're messing with Red in some way."

"Frank, I think it's best if you go with your gut feeling. If you want to go back, then go back and help him," Curtis said softly. "If not, then wait for him. I can't give you a definitive answer because that's something _you_ got to figure out." 

Right. 

Frank took Curtis' advice and thanked him before hanging up. He didn't want to risk Red by going back to HQ, so it was better to stay put and hope Red knew what he was doing. The due date for their final plan was right around the corner, so Red should be able to handle himself. 

  
  
The next day came through quickly without any warning. Frank went through a side job and headed out to the junkyard once it was noon. Might as well do a couple of tasks for the Unspoken for any additional evidence. Tie any loose ends if they came back to bite Frank in the ass. Not only that, Frank could use them as an excuse to find Red without making the mission detrimental. 

Animus was at the factory assigning tasks to a few groups nearby, looking exhausted from work but continued nonetheless. Everyone shuffled around to complete their assignments. From the crowd, Foreshadow beckoned Frank over with a hand. 

  
"Boss got a job for us," Foreshadow told him. "The other gunmen are busy, so you're coming with me."

"What's the job?" Frank asked. 

"Retrieve some documents in Queens. There's a hideout that used to belong to A.I.M., and the files can have some useful contacts for us." Foreshadow explained. 

Might as well then.

Frank decided to go along with the task and went with Foreshadow to the address. Being in the same car with Foreshadow wasn't a big deal before when they had groups. However, it was only the two of them, Frank driving while Foreshadow sat in the passenger seat. It felt so foreign to him. Usually, it was Red or Curtis (mostly Red) who was always next to him. Frank was trying his best not to think about it as he was driving. Frank needed to find Red after this quick run, just so that he could know if the other man was okay. The worry Frank had must've been evident on his face when Foreshadow gave him a side look. 

"You alright there, Revenant?" Foreshadow asked. 

"I'm fine," Frank answered quickly, his eyes on the road. 

"We're just picking up documents. I doubt there's going to be anyone there," Foreshadow kept staring. Frank could feel it. The other man really liked doing that for some reason, and it always got on Frank's nerves each time. "So if you're worried about that, then I'll be doing look-out." 

Frank shrugged. "Sure, I don't care." 

He didn't feel like continuing the conversation, so Frank tried to think of anything other than Red (which proved extremely difficult lately). All they had to do was the final plan, and that was it. Frank looked forward to the Unspoken's demise and the road trip after the group's healing. Each detail with the procedure should work out as long as the group knew what they were doing. Frank could only hope Red knew what he was doing. 

By the time they arrived at Queens, Frank had eased himself a bit, mostly when Foreshadow finally stopped staring at him. The building was a rundown warehouse that had a few broken-down shacks. It was located in a dusted area where it might've been private property until it got torn down. 

"You go ahead and scope out the inside," Foreshadow said as he picked up his rifle. "I'll keep watch outside." 

A creeping suspicion suddenly appeared when Frank was near the entrance. Foreshadow was not a trustworthy person, that's for sure, but Frank needed to keep playing his role and follow along. He nodded to the other man, adjusted his rifle, and entered the building through the back entrance. For a second, Frank glanced back at Foreshadow to see him grab something in his pocket, but Frank wasn't sure what it was. He couldn't stand there for too long, so Frank kept walking, exploring the first floor before going up to the second floor. 

The second floor was an absolute mess. It might also become a habitat for new bacteria, especially with the dead roaches littered in a few corners. A small office cubicle had binders stacked together, and Frank dusted each one as he went through them. The files needed had the usual A.I.M. logo scratched up with lists of names. Frank grabbed the files, trying to see if there were some he could sneak out without Foreshadow noticing. He doubted the other man would notice them missing, so Frank shoved half the files into his duffel bag before heading downstairs. Before Frank had time to adjust his equipment, Foreshadow entered the building, brushing off dirt from his shoulders.   
  


"Did you check the basement?" Foreshadow asked, pointing at the lonely entrance that hid between broken furniture.   
  


Alright, now the suspicion had exceeded past normal. Frank knew where this was going, and he didn’t like any of it. 

Frank answered him. "No, I didn't."

"Well, come on, there has to be something down there. Animus told us to explore the entire building and not to miss a single room." Foreshadow explained, already walking over to the entrance. "You coming?" 

No. Frank did _not_ want to follow Foreshadow down into the basement. He knew what was going to happen, and Frank was trying to think of many reasons why Foreshadow was preparing to kill him. However, he still needed to keep up the act, so Frank nodded and followed Foreshadow downstairs, keeping his rifle close to him. The basement was empty in terms of no furniture. The only things that kept it company were a few stray pipes and pieces of wood. 

"Well, I guess there's nothing useful here," Foreshadow said, shrugging casually. "We should head back to HQ, Frank."   
  


Of course.   
  


He fucking knew it.  
  


Frank went ahead and pointed his gun towards Foreshadow, who did the same as well with his rifle. They stood in place, unmoving from their spots, and waited for the next move. Frank knew something was up the moment he stepped out of the truck, and Foreshadow was smiling at him as if he had the upper hand. God damn bastard.

"Easy Frank, I don't want you to blow a fuse," Foreshadow said, still unmoving from his spot. "I'm surprised at how long you kept this going, but I finally have a chance to take you down." 

"How did you know?" Frank asked, glaring at the other man while his trigger finger ached. 

  
"Know about what? Your true identity? Your entire _plan?"_ Foreshadow emphasized. "You know there are superpowered beings with the Unspoken. You never thought about how a mind reader could've been one of them?" 

No.

He can't be serious… 

The times when Frank would bump into Foreshadow or whenever he ended up working on a mission with him, the bastard had been reading his mind. The whole time, Foreshadow _knew_ his true intentions. Did he read Red's mind as well? 

"I tried to read your buddy's mind, but it was hard to get a good focus on him, especially when he's barely around," Foreshadow answered. _God damn psychics._ "It's funny. I knew a few bits about the plan from him, but he mostly thought about you _._ He thinks about you _a lot._ " He then sighed. "You two think about each other, it’s _adorable_."

Frank still had the gun aimed at Foreshadow, ignoring the ending jeer. As much as the idea of Red thinking about him sounded endearing enough to distract him, Frank wasn't going to back down. 

"So you found out about the plan. So what? You're just gonna kill me right here so that it wouldn't work?" Frank sneered. 

"Well, Animus gave me the order to kill you after I told her about your little plan just now. You were thinking about it the entire car ride," Foreshadow shrugged. Frank felt his blood go cold, and his stomach drop. "We can't let you two get in the way of what we're trying to do. We're so close to destroying A.I.M., and we can't risk everything we've worked for getting wasted." 

Christ, this guy talked too much.

Which was something Frank wanted him to do. He wanted Foreshadow to keep talking so that Frank can get an open opportunity to shoot him down. 

"If you can read minds, then surely you looked into Eyesore's head, haven't you?" Frank asked. "You know that asshole is trying to turn his back on the entire organization? He's using all of you for his gain." 

"You think I don't know that?!" Foreshadow scoffed. "The bastard's using up too many people for his plans, and Animus is getting tired of it. Once I get rid of you and Infrared, then it'll be smooth sailing for us." 

He'd like to see him try. 

Frank quickly shot at one of the pipes above Foreshadow, steam shooting out from the bullet hole and covering Foreshadow's sightline. The rifles went off in a scattered fashion, and Frank managed to kick Foreshadow down before pointing the gun towards him. Foreshadow didn't get a chance to say anything else as Frank shot him between the eyes, moving away from the steam. He didn't want to waste any more time. The Unspoken knew about their plans, thanks to a goddamn mind reader out of all people. 

Frank left the building and went back inside the truck, taking the files with him and leaving Foreshadow's body behind. It didn't matter who would find it, and it didn't matter if he never came back to the junkyard. Animus knew about the plan, which meant that she most likely passed down the revelation to the others. Frank needed to find Red now, and they had to change the schedule for the final plan. 

They had to strike _tonight._

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Red didn't answer his phone. 

The sun was setting, and Red didn't answer his phone.

Frank had called him multiple times, and the same automated voicemail popped up each time.  
  


Back at the Lieberman household, Frank alerted everyone in the group about the plan change. Curtis had told him he was heading over to the house to discuss more options, Spector was trying to get hold of Matt, and Jessica said that she was getting back-up to help out. She had even tried to call Matt herself, but the other man still didn't respond. No one had seen Matt since the last meeting, which wasn't helping Frank calm down in any way. 

As Frank pulled out the police scanner, Curtis had arrived while he was skimming through different channels to find anything about fires. If Red wasn't answering, that meant that he was probably on another arson mission. Frank didn't know why he would continue after everything they found out about Eyesore, but he didn't know what to do in general. 

"Frank?" Curtis called out, approaching him slowly. "Frank, it's okay, we can try to find him. We still have time—"

"No, we don't, Curtis. We don't have time, and I have no idea where the hell Red is," Frank continued to tune the scanner to try to find something, anything. "He's not answering his phone, and I've already checked his apartment. He's gotta be in the city." 

The police scanner gave out multiple channels of officers reporting fires happening in a few parts of Hell's Kitchen. Frank immediately got up from the table and gathered supplies and gear. "That's gotta be him. We need to go." 

"Frank, wait! Have you told Madani what happened?" Curtis asked, struggling to keep up with Frank's fast-paced actions. "The mission needs to start now. If the Unspoken knows about it, we should get a headstart." 

"I'm not starting this damn mission without him, Curt!" Frank growled. "Red doesn't know about what happened, and he needs to be here with all of us." 

Curtis held up his hands, trying his best to calm down Frank. "You're right, I'm sorry— Let's go find him then, okay?" He stared at the rifle in Frank's grasp. "You don't need to go on a rampage to find Matt. We'll find him in no time."

"This is just in case any Unspoken bastards are with him," Frank grunted. "If they're with Red, then he's going to be the only one left alive." 

Curtis hesitated at first, but he eventually agreed to Frank's statement. "I understand."

The drive to Hell's Kitchen was silent at best, only filled with the police scanner’s static tuning sounds. Curtis handled the scanner while Frank drove around the city, listening to every location that reported a fire. A couple of them sounded familiar in terms of the office locations from before. Frank saw multiple police cars and fire trucks cross the streets as he drove. He decided to follow one of the fire trucks to the Kitchen’s lower parts, hoping to find a clue. He passed by an old gang hideout with cars leaving the sight. A motorcycle engine sounded off as Frank drove around the location, and suddenly Curtis gripped his arm. 

"That biker isn't wearing a helmet," Curtis said, pointing towards the other end of the street. "And that coat looks like an Unspoken outfit." 

Frank slammed the gas pedal to get a closer look at the person on the motorcycle, gripping the wheel tightly as he did so. As the truck got closer, Frank's heart began to pound in his chest. Curtis was right. The person driving the motorcycle was wearing an Unspoken outfit. _Red's Unspoken outfit._

Red was the one driving a motorcycle. 

"It's Red," Frank confirmed, pressing the accelerator to get closer to the bike's speed. 

"Wait, _what?_ How? How the hell is he driving a motorcycle?!" Curtis asked, completely astonished by the idea of a blind man driving a motorcycle. Frank would be, too, if it weren't for the fact that Red was a tough badass with heightened senses. It was why he wasn't wearing a helmet so that his radar sense could work properly.

The motorcycle sped through the streets, trying to get farther away from the truck. Frank wasn't falling back any time soon, so he kept his foot on the accelerator and followed Red. He wasn't going to lose him. Not like this. 

The trail ended at the far end of the city, where the streets were empty, a few office buildings standing in their way. The motorcycle was abandoned by the curb, indicating that Red was already inside.   
  


"Wait here," Frank said, grabbing his gear and adjusting the jacket. "I'm going up there to knock some sense into Red. I'll be back." 

"Call me if anything goes wrong," Curtis said. "I'm going to keep an eye out, so please, be careful." 

Frank nodded and exited the car, leaving the engine on in case they had to go through another car chase. He ran once he smelled the gunpowder, furiously looking around for any sign of Red. The sound of footsteps going up the stairs gave Frank a hint that he was going to the next floor. 

"Red!"

Frank called out to him, reaching the second floor to find Red across the other end of it with a lighter. The other man had his back turned to him, trying to get the lighter to work.

" _Matt,_ " Frank decided to use Red's name to get him to listen. "Put down the lighter." 

Red turned around to face him, the lighter still in hand. The bandana covered the lower half of his face, but Frank could see the bloodshot glare from a mile away. 

"What are you doing here?" Red asked, his voice husk and his shoulders tense. 

"I had to find you, Matt. You didn't answer your phone. You’re starting fires— I needed to know what's going on." Frank explained. 

"You shouldn't be here," Red said sharply, placing the lighter onto a nearby table. "Why did you follow me here? You should be preparing for the mission."

Frank slowly began walking towards Red in careful steps, showing him that he didn't want to fight. "I can't prepare for the mission when you have other plans in mind. What the hell were you thinking, Red? Why are you starting fires in all of these A.I.M. locations?" 

Red didn't answer for a while, standing there with a vacant expression. Frank was left staring into eyes that almost look white thanks to the light coming from the windows. 

"You were right, you know." 

"I was right about what?" Frank asked. 

"Eyesore had to be stopped; we can't let him get in the way of the mission, especially with how dangerous he is," Red continued, slowly backing away from Frank. "He admitted that he was behind the suicides within the Unspoken. He wants to keep using people for his insane ambitions, and I'm not going to stand here and let him get away with it!" 

"So you're just going to burn down the locations? For what, Red? To lure him in?" Red's head perked up after Frank asked the question, and that action already gave him an answer. "That's not the way to go. You're putting yourself and others in danger, and we can't change the mission now." Frank continued to approach Red, keeping his heartbeat relaxed as he did so slowly. "What happened back there, Red? At the factory. You wanted to confront Eyesore, so what happened? What did he do to you?"

"Back off!" Red shouted, still backing away from Frank. "I'm making it easy on us and luring him in here. He's too dangerous!"

"What are you going to do then?" Frank demanded before he slowly began to realize Red's implication. The familiar sense that Frank knew only from a recollection Red shared with him back then. The fight with Kingpin and the way Red was so determined to end the chaos in a way only the Punisher could recognize. "You're not… you want to kill him." 

Red didn't say anything else, but he was already bracing himself if Frank wanted a fight. Now that alone brought back a lot of memories of the past. Only this time, the image of Daredevil was ragged and unstable, too far away to be recognizable. 

Frank slowly held up his hands. "Listen to me; you don't have to kill Eyesore, okay? We've had this conversation plenty of times before, and I'll keep saying the same thing: it's not worth it, Red. You can't cross that line, you understand me? That's not who you are, and that's something you can't come back from." 

"I'm not making that same mistake again!" Red answered angrily. "We've already lost too many people. I've let these bastards off the hook just for the sake of my moral compass! Isn't this what you wanted, Frank?" Now Red was challenging him. The tilt of his head told Frank that this was the Devil he was dealing with, and he needed to be careful. "Didn't you want me to have One Bad Day? It would be so much easier on everyone's parts if I just break my code."

Red didn’t sound like himself _at all,_ and Frank was starting to regret not stopping Red from confronting Eyesore. "No, I didn't want that— I _never_ wanted that to happen to you. You know that, Red. I'm not forcing you to be a killer, and that isn't a line you should cross," Frank felt the bloodshot gaze bore into his eyes. He asked again, "What did Eyesore do to you when you confronted him?" 

The question was left unanswered again, and Red was nearing the table with the lighter. "You need to leave, Frank. I still have a chance to lure him in." 

"To hell with that! I'm not leaving, Red. I'm not going to let you keep burning shit down, and I'm not going to let you kill the old man!" Frank began to approach him again. "Let me do it, okay? Killing is my job, not yours. If we follow the mission, he's going to be there, and I'll put him down. We have to do this mission, Red. We're not going to have enough time—"

"Back off! Stay away from me!" Red warned again. 

"No, you have to listen to me," Frank continued, his hand slowly reaching over to touch Red's arm. "The Unspoken, they know about—"

Frank didn't finish the sentence because touching Red's arm was the wrong way to approach him. Red wasn't a fan of the contact and grabbed Frank's wrist, trying to twist it as he went ahead and threw Frank onto the ground. Frank was now on the floor, trying to get up as Red went in for the attack, kicking him at the sides. He had to shield himself from the attack and had to find a chance to knock Red off his feet. Red was about to turn around and grab the lighter, but Frank snatched his ankle and tripped him. Did Red enjoy falling to the ground? Nope. Not at all. Red rolled over to the side and pinned Frank onto the floor before he could scramble back onto his feet. The blows he received were sent in almost lightning-fast speed that Frank couldn't keep up with, blocking all of them. All he could see was the vicious look in Red's eyes, with the yellow rim that surrounded his irises. Frank managed to catch one fist towards him before it broke his nose any further. He then took advantage of the position and flipped Red around, pinning him to the ground instead. The other man struggled wildly under Frank's grasp, and Frank was panting as he yelled. 

"God damn it, Red, snap out of it! I'm not trying to fight you! The Unspoken— they know about the mission! Foreshadow was a mind reader this entire time, and he snitched on us to Animus. They know— they know about everything, and we have to move forward with the plan now!" 

"Then move on with the mission!" Red yelled back, twisting around again to shove Frank off of him. "I'll burn the entire factory to the ground if I have to!" 

Before he ran off to grab the lighter and gunpowder, Frank immediately got on his feet and charged towards Red, shoving him into the wall. A few of the cracks that were already there had increased from the impact. A hard push to the wall wasn't going to slow Red down. It only made him angrier. Red slammed his head against Frank's to stun him for a moment before he attacked his sides again. They were already bruising from before, so Frank was starting to wheeze from the fight. However, Frank wasn't going to slow down either. Frank fought back with everything he got, using everything he learned from their sparring sessions to get Red to back off. In one swift motion, Frank grabbed Red's shoulders and pushed him back against the wall again. 

"Red, you need to _stop._ Snap the _fuck_ out of it. This isn't you! I'm not the one you should be fighting!" Frank heaved, blood dripping from his nose and the cut on his lip. "Eyesore's messing with your head. You have to fight back his influence before you get screwed over like the others!" 

"You don't think I know that?" Red snarled, grabbing Frank's arm to free himself from the wall. He shoved Frank back, his knuckles still aching for a fight. "You don't think I knew about the consequences? Do you honestly think I was going in without realizing what was going to happen? I _know_ Eyesore is messing with my head. I _allowed_ it to happen so that it wouldn't happen to you! So that I could gain his trust and backstab him in the end!"   
  


_So that it wouldn't happen to you._

Red didn't mean that… 

Eyesore was going to mess with Frank’s head initially…   
  


Frank was dismayed by the revelation, almost losing his footing as Red shoved him back. He couldn't believe this entire time, Red took the fall for him and that he allowed himself to be used by Eyesore. Another revelation. Another secret. A secret that Red never shared with him, and in return, he suffered the consequences like a goddamn martyr. 

"You can't keep doing this to yourself!" Frank roared, closing in on Red's space to grab him. He had enough of Red’s out-of-control state. They've already wasted too much time. "You can't keep taking so much crap for my sake! Wake the hell up, Red!"

"Let go of me!" Red thrashed wildly in his arms, but that only made Frank's hold grow tighter. "You're in the way of everything!" 

"No, I'm not letting go until you're back to yourself. For Christ's sake, Red, just listen to me!" 

Red continued to squirm in his grasp, his arms shifting around to move and get a hold of something. Frank was still trying to keep him together, but eventually, Red made enough space to ease himself from the handle.

Frank should've paid attention because a shot of pain went through and shocked his entire body to the ground. He cried out in agony, glancing at what hit him only to see a switchblade stabbing right in between his clavicle and shoulder. Frank's eyes went wide as he realized what had happened. Red had a knife on him, and he managed to grab it and stab Frank. Right in his weak point, the old injury that cursed him to this day. His body went completely still, and Frank's knees buckled underneath him, taking Red with him.

Red was still holding the knife in place, his eyes filled with fury as he then dragged the blade down before taking it out. It was going to leave a nasty scar, that's for sure. Frank's mind was reeling at the pain from the blade. The way blood was already staining the fabric and seeping out of it. Red had dug in deep, he knew about the weak point after all, and he intentionally attacked Frank there just to get him to stop. It worked. Dear God, it worked, and it was excruciating. 

They were both breathing heavily from the fight, Red still holding the blade, and Frank was desperately trying to stop the bleeding. The smell of blood was prominent between them, and Red suddenly dropped the tense pose and then stared blankly at nothing.   
  


"Is this what you wanted?" Frank asked through gritted teeth, the pain still crippling him. "Was this worth it? All of this, just to stab me in the one spot you knew that would bring me down?" 

"... You gave me no choice," Red explained slowly, now heaving again. "I had to take you down. I _wanted_ to stab you."

"You wanted to, huh? Okay. Well then, answer me this: did I deserve it?" Frank asked, the blood now soaking his fingertips. "Did I _deserve_ to get stabbed?" 

Red stared at him for what seemed like hours, the hand that held the knife now shaking. He slowly dropped the blade, and Red was starting to realize what he had done. 

"... No. You didn't deserve it," Red answered, his voice broken with a sense of agony that Frank had never heard of before until now. "This is wrong. It's supposed to be the other way around. I… _no."_

Frank was confused with what Red meant by that, seeing how the other man was now panicking. Red was starting to become self-aware of everything, and he kept muttering out something about 'the other way around.' Then it hit him: the past. Back when Frank and Red were enemies. Back when Frank fought against Daredevil, and they hated each other's guts. Back when Punisher was seen as the instigator— the attacker. The _bad guy._ And Daredevil was his foil, his rival, that stopped him from creating more chaos than the city could already handle. Red was having a sort of flashback that spiraled out of control. Now his mind was trying to develop some way to fix the imbalance. 

"You shouldn't have been here. Then I wouldn't have attacked you," Red mumbled out. "I was wrong— this is wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen…"   
  


Shit, what the hell was Frank thinking?  
  


Red didn't plan on stabbing him, but Frank was the one that provoked him. And it wasn't like Red was trying to kill him either. He just wanted Frank to back off. Frank knew Red's mind wasn't in the right place at the moment, and he persisted in further destroying it. Red wasn't the enemy. He was the victim. 

"Hey, Red, it's going to be okay, I'll be fine," Frank tried his best to reassure him, despite nursing his wound poorly. "Curtis will patch me up, and we can move past this whole thing." 

Red shook his head. "It's Eyesore— it's the Unspoken— it's _their_ fault. I wouldn't have done this. They did this." He gave a bitter laugh that didn't match with the anguish in his eyes. 

Red got up from the ground and began to lash out at anything nearby, kicking at the legs of weak tables and drawers. Frank tried to get up from his spot, but the pain still weighed him down and forced him to stay put. Red grabbed an office chair nearby and proceeded to launch it towards the window, Frank wincing at the sound of broken glass. 

"Hey! Red, snap out of it!" Frank shouted once more, groaning at his injury as he tried to get up again. Red clutched his head at Frank's pleas, muttering out a deranged mantra that was barely audible. 

Red grabbed the broken drawer from before and tossed it towards another window, the glass breaking completely. Frank had managed to get himself off the ground, grunting at the pain with his eyes shut. By the time he lifted his head, Red was already gone.   
  


No.

_Not like this._

The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted Frank's thoughts.

"Frank!" 

Curtis had arrived just in time, carrying a backpack and a pistol with him. He rushed over to where Frank was, helping him stand up completely before easing him to sit down at one of the remaining chairs. The motorcycle engine’s sound echoed in the background, and Frank could only stare at the broken window as the sound receded. 

"Jesus Christ, Frank! What the hell happened up here?! I saw the chairs fly out the windows, and I had to get here as fast as I could. Where's Matt?" Curtis was already unzipping the backpack to grab the first aid kit inside. He stared at the blood-stained fabric. "Did he… did he do this to you?" He asked after he examined all of Frank's injuries. 

Frank didn't answer the question. He continued to stare at the broken window. 

"Frank! Did Matt do this to you?" Curtis asked again until he caught the sight of the stray knife. His eyes went wide.

"I can't lose him," Frank said quietly. 

Curtis focused on patching up the stab wound, cutting through the fabric with a pair of scissors, and then cleaned the area quickly. He placed a cloth over it and pushed Frank's hand down onto the wound to apply pressure. "Frank, what happened?" 

Frank shuddered as he held the cloth, glancing over to see Curtis sterilizing a needle to prepare the stitches. "Eyesore was messing with Red's head the entire time. I didn't know, Curt. His mind's all fucked, and I didn't know." 

"Is that why he stabbed you?" Curtis questioned. 

"I didn't back off," Frank immediately said, trying to defend Red's actions despite the fight from earlier. "I got too close, he retaliated, and I suffered from it. His head isn't in the right place right now. It’s not completely his fault. Curt, I can't lose him. Not like this." 

The needle went through once Frank moved the cloth away from the wound. Frank reached into his pocket to fish out his phone and dial-up Madani's number with his right hand. After a few rings, Madani finally picked up.   
  


"Frank? What is it?"   
  


"We're going to attack the Unspoken tonight," Frank informed her. 

"Tonight? Why? I thought we all agreed on striking tomorrow night." 

Curtis’ brows furrowed as he continued to sew up the wound. Frank didn't back down from the silent protest. "The Unspoken had a mind reader on their side. He found out about the plan and snitched, so now they're waiting for us. To top it all off, one of the leaders started to screw with Daredevil's head, so now he's hellbent on revenge. We need to attack now, or we'll never have a chance again."

Madani went quiet on the other end, the subtle static from the phone the only sound filling the silence. Curtis took his time in sewing, but he was holding his breath in anticipation.

"Madani," Frank grunted. 

"I swear to God— _Fine_ , alright, I'll be sending a squad now then. You better have your group ready, Frank." 

The call ended abruptly, and Frank was glad that Madani had complied with his request. Curtis patched up the wound with some bandages before checking on the other injuries. 

"What the hell are you thinking?" Curtis demanded. "Frank, you're not in any condition to challenge the entire Unspoken right now." 

"I don't give a shit, Curt, I need to find Red. We're doing this now, or else we won't get another chance." Frank began to dial-up numbers, already calling everyone in the group to prepare. Much to Frank's relief, everyone else wasn't too opposed to ambushing the Unspoken tonight. Jessica and Frenchie were a bit miffed from the sudden schedule change, but they reluctantly agreed after they heard what happened to Red. 

"Are you sure, Frank?" 

"I told you, I can't lose him like this. They're going to kill him, and I just— not like this." 

Frank gave himself some time to recover before getting back on his feet and leaving the building. Curtis drove him back to the Lieberman household to gather the rest of the gear and supplies. Jessica texted Frank during the drive back, telling him that Trish and Kamala were ready while Spector and Frenchie were already at the junkyard. There were sirens sounding off from afar, and Frank took that as his reminder to hurry up. He texted Jessica to keep an eye out for Red just in case. 

"Are you ready to go? Do you need any pain killers?" Curtis asked.

"I don't need any. I can take it," Frank went ahead and adjusted the extra padding around the wound. After that, he switched out the plain bulletproof vest for the old, classic one. The one with the Punisher skull. 

"Come on. The night's still young." 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


The fires had finally died down, but the sirens continued to scream within the city. 

Brooklyn was packed with authority and emergency vehicles, zipping through the streets towards casualties and other locations. They decided to take Curtis' van for this mission if they had to pick up anyone from the group for treatment. Frank watched as police cars blocked off specific entrances and warned people on the streets to stay inside. 

Curtis maneuvered his way out of the police's sightline and took the back alleyways that led to the junkyard. Frank took the same passageway whenever he and Red had to get to HQ without being spotted. There was a secluded location near the docks, which had the lone dirt area that allowed Frank to park the truck. A couple of cop cars hid in the room alongside the familiar white limousine that belonged to a certain vigilante he knew. 

"Just in time, Castle."   
  


Jessica had gotten out of the limousine, with Kamala following behind and Trish exiting the driver's seat. Huh. So Frenchie wasn't driving this time. Kamala had her Ms. Marvel costume ready to go with her blue domino mask and some extra protection. Trish was trying out her Hellcat get-up, wearing a full black cowl to cover half her face. Some of her strawberry blonde hair was flowing out of it too. Jessica still had her signature leather jacket and fingerless gloves. 

"Marc and Frenchie are already inside the factory," Kamala informed as she gazed out at the junkyard. From a distance, it looked peaceful, but the sirens and the gunfire said otherwise. "I have a few communicators Marc saved for us so that we can help each other out." 

Lucky for them, Moon Knight was a thoughtful person. They each took an earpiece and made sure they worked properly. Kamala frowned when she noticed the space next to Frank. 

"Where's Matt?" 

Frank sighed, looking over at the junkyard. "Red's probably already inside reigning hell all over. He's not himself right now, Kamala. You have to be careful when you approach him." 

Kamala frowned at the warning, but she reluctantly nodded. 

"Got it, but if Murdock starts swinging at me, I'm knocking him out," Jessica warned. 

"I would rather Red be unconscious than him trying to kill someone actively," Frank admitted, and he saw a flicker of concern in Jessica's eyes. "He's not going to listen to reason.”

"Detective Costa and Flint are sending out their squads now," Frenchie's voice sounded off from the earpiece.

"Thank god, they agreed to help," Trish said. "Are we ready to go in?" 

Curtis was grabbing the case that held the sniper rifle inside. "I'll be keeping a lookout and help from afar," he looked over at Frank before addressing the others. "You be careful, okay? All of you, good luck." 

Luck wasn't going to be enough, but hey, it didn't hurt to wish for it.

The group headed towards the junkyard, following the sounds of fighting up ahead while bracing for the worse to happen. 

Frenchie's voice went into the comms again to warn them about the gasoline and oil spillage all over the factory. There were also groups of people fighting left to right, bullets, and superpowers flying across the junkyard in different directions. It felt like a bloody war, but Frank was used to those kinds of battles. The Punisher skull on his chest resonated with the battlefield, drinking in the chaos and misery. He didn't waste any time in pumping bullets into nearby Unspoken members, covering for the others while giving the people on their side the upper hand. 

A few Unspoken members noticed Frank walking by, some of them referring to him as Revenant before their eyes landed on the painted skull. That was when the realization struck, and the fear was set in place. Jessica and Trish became a tag team in avoiding gunfire and knocking Unspoken members senseless. Kamala used her powers to go up against superpowered Unspoken members. She increased her hands’ size to grab crates nearby and toss them at anyone attacking them, just to scare them off.

The outrage from the superpowered beings caused the oil spillage to burst into flames. A few of the streams shot up with embers flowing out, and groups on all sides had to back away from them. Kamala had shielded Frank from some of the blasts with her large hands.   
  


"Shit, are you okay?" Frank asked.

"I'm fine, don't worry!" Kamala reassured him while her leg stretched to kick at some Unspoken members. "We're closer to the factory! Let's go!"

The factory was no different from the outside: Unspoken members were fighting authority figures while others were even going against each other. Frank and Kamala pushed through and evaded any oil spillage. A white, crescent disc sliced through the air and hit a few attackers their way.   
  


"Moon Knight!" Kamala said happily, joining his side in fighting off Unspoken members. 

"Hey there, Ms. Marvel," Spector greeted. He saw the painted skull on Frank's chest and gave a satisfied hum. "Welcome back, Punisher. You two showed up just in time, and the floor upstairs is finally vacant now that the leaders are fighting."

"Where are they?" Frank asked. "Red's planning on going after one of them." 

Spector shrugged as he smacked an Unspoken member with his truncheon. "I'm not exactly sure, but they might be in the middle of the factory. I plan on going upstairs and getting everything they have on A.I.M." 

"I'll come with you!" Kamala said. 

"Alright, sounds good. Get anything necessary and then get out." Frank instructed. 

"Be careful, okay?" Kamala said before she and Spector ran off towards the stairs. 

After they had left, smoke began to surround the factory, mainly the center of it. Frank thought it was coming from the fires at first, but he realized that it appeared so suddenly. He knew a particular asshole that was capable of creating smoke. 

Frank adjusted the bandana he wore and pushed through the smoke, ending up at the center where Smokescreen was fighting Unspoken members. Animus was fighting alongside him next to him while yelling at someone Frank couldn't quite see yet. When the smoke cleared away slightly, Frank realized it was Eyesore.  
  


 _"Motherfucker!"_ Animus yelled, shoving Unspoken members away to face the older man. "You were using us! All those promises you made— they meant _nothing_ to you!" 

"I'm going to light up this entire factory if I have to!" Smokescreen threatened.   
  
  


_No, you won't._

The smoke was starting to become unbearable, so Frank went ahead and shot Smokescreen in the back of his head. 

Animus turned around, seeing Smokescreen's dead body dropping onto the floor first before she saw Frank. "Look who decided to show up. Fucking _murderer_ , take him down!" 

Now that was just the pot calling the kettle black. 

Frank waited for Animus to attack until Jessica suddenly appeared through the smoke and clocked her right in the jaw. Animus stumbled back, holding her face from the blow, and glared at Jessica. 

"Has anyone ever told you to shut the hell up?" Jessica asked as she cracked her knuckles. "’cause you're annoying."

"Back me up!" Animus demanded, but instead of Unspoken members arriving, Trish came through instead and attacked her. 

"He's here!" Trish told Frank as Jessica went in to help her fight Animus. "Eyesore's getting away, and he's following him!"

Frank nodded and ran past them, letting them handle Animus while he chased Eyesore through the smoke. More Unspoken members came through and blocked Frank's way, and he used the butt of his rifle to shove them. On the other side of the crowd, the smoke began to clear, and he finally saw Red. Red had jumped from the ceiling and landed onto Eyesore. He started delivering blows to the older man until Eyesore grabbed one of Red's fists and gained an attack opportunity. 

Frank roared within the crowd, punching anyone nearby, and shoved them around. The flames were getting worse, and as Red and Eyesore fought, they were getting too close to the burning oil puddles. 

"We could've had _everything,_ and you threw it all away!" Eyesore yelled, pinning Red to the ground next to the black slick. "This is what you get for not following orders!"

Frank held his breath at what happened next, his eyes going wide, and his vision turned crimson.   
  


Eyesore grabbed Red's right arm and slammed it against the burning oil. It seared through the fabric of the coat and went onto his skin, causing Red to scream out in pain.   
  


The world went still around him, and the agony in Red's scream sent Frank into a frenzy.   
  


Bullets went through each Unspoken member in his way. They dropped one by one as the Punisher stalked through the crowd and aimed right for Eyesore's head.   
  


Before Frank could pull the trigger, Red used his good arm to flail desperately for something nearby. A lone pipe had sat next to him, so Red grabbed it and immediately used it to smash it against Eyesore's head. It was a sudden reaction. It was life or death, and the sickening sound of Eyesore's head breaking was enough to tell Frank the answer. Eyesore released his grasp on Red and fell onto the burning oil, completely lifeless. Red rolled away from the stream and was writhing from the pain in his arm. Frank rushed over to where he was, his marine instincts kicking in as he ripped the burning fabric. The oil only affected a section of Red's arm, but it wasn't looking good and needed medical attention.   
  


"I got you, Red," Frank desperately said as Red continued to groan in anguish. "I'm getting you out of here."   
  


The Unspoken members around them began to stop what they were doing, only to panic from the fires and scream in terror. Eyesore was finally dead, so his influence no longer affected his victims. 

Frank pulled Red up, wrapping his good arm around his shoulders, and Red went limp in his grasp— passing out from the pain. He began to head out of the smoke and tried to find exits of the factory. Kamala's voice came into the earpiece, alerting everyone that she and Spector found the flash drives they needed. On the way towards the exit, Jessica and Trish met up with Frank, their eyes landing on Red's injured state.  
  


"Holy shit, what happened?" Jessica asked, and it was the first time Frank has ever seen her look so distraught. 

"Eyesore did this to him," Frank grunted, still trying to be careful around Red's arm. "Bastard's finally dead, so we need to get out of here before this place falls apart." He looked at Trish. "What happened to Animus?" 

"Some Unspoken members dragged her away from us, and we couldn't save her," Trish said regretfully. "We couldn't go back for her."  
  


 _Good riddance,_ Frank thought idly. Unlike Trish, he didn't feel any sympathy for Animus.  
  


"Madani's squad is here," Spector informed through the earpiece. "They're trying to get everyone out, so you guys better start heading out now before the factory gets destroyed." 

Debris began to fall from the ceiling, ushering the group to head out and find another exit. Some of the doors were blocked off thanks to broken walls collapsing on each other. Frank tried to look for another option. 

Until he saw someone shivering in a corner. 

It was Aperture. 

"Aperture!" Frank shouted at them, forcing them to face him. 

"Oh, god, please don't kill me!" Aperture held their hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean to do any of this! I didn't— I'm sorry!" 

How Aperture behaved was a stark difference from the cold, stoic version Frank was used to before. He realized that Aperture was probably under Eyesore's influence the entire time and had finally snapped out of it. 

"I'm not going to kill you," Frank started. "But I need your help."

"I can't help; I’ve only made things worse," Aperture mumbled.

The debris continued to fall, and Frank was running out of time and patience. "Quit the self-deprecating bullshit and listen to me. You can still fix things. You can help everyone in the building if you make some portals. Okay? Can you do that?" 

Aperture shuddered from Frank's tone but eventually compromised with him. "I… I can do that!"

"Good, start making them and alert everyone around," Frank commanded. 

Aperture began creating portals all over the factory and started warning anyone nearby to go through them. The group did the same, and eventually, many members and police officers got the memo. Frank didn't waste any time and went through the first portal he saw, ending up outside the factory at the far end of the junkyard. Jessica and Trish followed behind him, along with a few others that scrambled around. Eventually, the portals closed, and the factory soon fell apart as the flames consumed it.   
  


The Unspoken has finally fallen.   
  


"Curtis, I need you here right now," Frank said through the earpiece, and the van's horn sounded off behind him. The white limousine was there as well.

"Don't think Marc and I didn't see the weird portals and the fires," Curtis said after lowering the window. "We need to get out of here, especially you two." Curtis saw how bad Red looked, frowning at the burn mark. 

"We'll meet back at the house," Frank told everyone.   
  


The rest of the group went into the limousine while Frank moved into the van’s back seat of the van with Red. Red had passed out earlier from the pain, breathing heavily and shuddering slightly. Frank stared at the burning factory once more before the car began to drive away from it. Frank focused all of his attention on Red, the world silent around him as he tried to help him. 

The mission was complete, but at what cost?

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Madani was waiting at the house when the group arrived.   
  


Since the last time Frank had seen her, Madani still looked the same.

Jessica and Spector offered to help carry Red inside, while Madani went over to give Frank some support. The adrenaline from before finally died down, and Frank was aware of his injuries and the way his chest heaved for fresh air. 

Everything became a blur the second Frank set foot inside the house. 

A few medics had arrived at the house, Madani instructing them to help out anyone with injuries and provide oxygen tanks. A doctor separated Frank from Red, and he closed his eyes in exhaustion. When he opened them again, he was lying in one of the guest rooms, bandages covering his wounds and had a cannula occupying his nostrils. Frank didn't bother checking the time, already guessing it was late from the darkness. 

There was a soft knock by the door, and Madani walked in to check on him.  
  


"How are you feeling?" She asked. 

"I'll live," Frank simply said, before asking, "How is he?" 

"The medics looked over Daredevil's injuries and the burn. He's been given some drugs and is resting up," Madani said. "I think he should be okay for now. Oh, and they won't say a word about his blindness, by the way." 

Good, or else Frank will make sure of it. "What about the others?" 

"Ms. Jones and her friend only had minor injuries and were given oxygen just in case. The same for Moon Knight, Ms. Marvel, and Mr. DuChamp," Madani informed. "Moon Knight gave me the files needed, and your pal Curtis directed me to the rest of the evidence."

Madani continued to report to Frank about everything that happened after the factory's destruction. Unspoken members were arrested while only a few were found dead near the warehouses. The three leaders were pronounced dead, and their killers had perished underneath the rubble. Frank's chest tightened at the fact that Red had killed someone. It pained him more than his physical injuries. 

"I have both of your bandanas and outfits as the remaining evidence," Madani said softly. 

"Get rid of them," Frank grunted before changing the subject. "Do you have everything you need to connect the Unspoken to A.I.M.?" 

Madani nodded. "Yes, we can finally build a case against them and investigate their whereabouts. I can't thank you enough for everything you and the group have done." 

"I don't care," Frank said gruffly, staring at the door.

"I understand the consequences that happened throughout this entire mission, and I want to offer you any additional help you and the others need."

"Sure, I appreciate it, but we're done here, Madani," Frank said. "You got that?" 

Madani didn't bother arguing with him like she usually did back then. Instead, she nodded again, a tinge of sympathy radiating off of her. "I understand; thank you, Frank. Tell Daredevil I express the same gratitude towards him as well."

With that, Madani took her leave, and Frank stared at the closed door as his lungs tried to recover. 

Later in the night, the others started to visit him, informing him what happened while he was out. Curtis was by Frank's side, helping him sit up better. 

Kamala had kept the flash drives to try and decipher. She wanted to send them to SHIELD but wanted to contact someone she knew to crack the codes before doing so. Frank was curious about the flash drives, but his mind felt heavy when he tried thinking. 

Everyone in the group agreed to stay in contact in case anything else happened. Spector promised to visit Red later on and give any aid he can offer, and Jessica promised to look after the city while the others recovered. Frank bid his farewell as everyone left, leaving him and Curtis to ponder over everything that happened. 

"I want to see him," Frank said suddenly. 

"Frank, you need to rest as well, buddy," Curtis told him gently.

Frank shook his head slowly. "I don't care; I want to see him." 

There was a sigh from Curtis, which meant that there was no use in arguing with Frank. Curtis helped Frank get up from the bed and over to the main bedroom where Red was. Frank stared at Red’s sleeping form when they entered the room, his right arm covered in bandages and a ventilator by his side. Red looked dead to the world, but the slow rise of his chest gave Frank some reassurance. 

"I'll be fine," Frank said as he went ahead and sat at the end of the bed. It was a king-sized bed, so there was enough room for Frank to lie down. 

Curtis allowed Frank to do so, bringing his oxygen tank and easing him down on the bed. It may not be practical, but Frank had been through worse. Curtis bid his farewell and went to sleep in the other rooms, leaving Frank alone with Red by his side. 

The stab wound from earlier throbbed slightly, but Frank ignored it. 

He was already putting the confrontation he had with Red in the past now.   
  


All he could now was to try and get some sleep.  
  


Maybe the new set of nightmares would spare him, just for tonight. 


	17. After the Silent Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for post mission and what happens after all that hell from before. A quick recovery arc before we move onto the next arc! 
> 
> Burn injury tw  
> Nightmares tw
> 
> Many thanks to Goldenspecter for beta reading this chapter!

XVII

  
  
  
  
  
  


The world felt like it was under a fog.

It smelled like smoke. 

There was a dulling pain in his arm.

Matt didn't know where he was. 

The bed he was lying on felt foreign against his skin. 

There was something wrong with his arm. 

A low ringing echoed in his ears as Matt tried to figure out what was going on. So far, his senses weren't as reliable as he needed them to be, and with the world going against him, Matt began to panic. Every part of his body ached, but what pained him the most was his right arm. 

Nausea rose in Matt's dry throat, causing him to curl to the side and groan. Nothing felt real; it was like he was trapped in limbo. There was nothing around him, yet so much was happening. 

It was too dark. 

Too quiet. 

Too much smoke in the air. 

Everything was going against him, and his arm felt like it was on fire. 

The memory couldn't give him the solace of an answer, and Matt tried to break free from the nightmare. The fog that clouded his mind only confused him more and Matt wanted to know why he couldn't get up. 

Just _get up already._

Something muffled was next to him. Matt couldn't place what it was, and it only sent him into further panic as he tried to break from the sheets. There was a hand on his shoulder, and Matt flinched at the touch. A distorted voice went through to try and soothe him, but Matt didn't want any of its sympathies. He tried to get up and leave. He tried to wake up. And for the love of God, he wanted his arm to _stop hurting so much._

Steady drumming replaced the ringing in his ears. 

Matt didn't realize it until the hand on his shoulder gave a firm grasp as a way to ground him. 

The drumming continued to fill the room with its sound, pushing out the ringing in Matt's ears and distracted him from the smoke. It was a familiar, soothing sound. Matt clung onto it desperately, and finally, his mind started to regain its awareness again. Everything slowly made sense. The drumming turned out to be a heartbeat, and it rewarded Matt with a fleeting moment of clarity. 

Nausea slowly died down, and exhaustion was starting to take over. Matt continued to listen to the heartbeat, his breathing evening out, and his muscles were slowly relaxing. The pain in his arm was still there, but it didn't stop Matt's eyes from closing. The smoke was clearing out, and Matt allowed himself to be taken by sleep. 

The heartbeat never left his side for the entire night. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The fog lifted itself when Matt woke up again. 

Matt's senses were starting to cooperate again when he laid on his back, allowing the atmosphere to tell him where he was. The heavy sheets and the warm sunlight that peaked through the curtains told Matt he was in the Lieberman household. There was a lingering smell of aloe in the air. A monitor beeped next to him softly. The smell of smoke had disappeared, and Matt slowly realized that the nightmares from before were real. Matt ran his fingers over his arm again, and the gauzes were still there. 

The thin fabric that covered his arm was the only informant that told Matt everything. It jogged Matt's memory in place, filling in the empty spaces and reminded him what happened last night. The broken pieces of his mind were still scattered all over, and Matt didn't bother with picking them up. He continued to lay against the sheets, staring out into nothing as memories of the Unspoken taunted him endlessly. 

The Unspoken was gone. 

Eyesore was dead, so were the other two leaders. 

Frank was safe. 

Everyone else made it out unscathed. 

Except for him. 

Matt didn't move from the bed. He couldn't find it in himself to do so anyway. 

The memories repeat themselves over and over, his actions laid out for Matt to acknowledge. 

Eyesore was dead.

He killed him.

_He killed him._

The fear was starting to set, and Matt could only lay frozen on the bed. What scared him the most was not the fact that he killed someone, but rather, he felt no guilt. Nothing. 

_He deserved to die,_ Matt argued with himself. _But does that make it right?_

_Murderer…_

The same information continued to repeat in his head endlessly. It was having a tough time staying there when there was nothing but glass shards.

  
  
  
  


Later in the day, Curtis walked into the room wearing hope on his sleeve. 

He checked up on Matt's arm and the rest of his body, tending to a few popped stitches, and redressed the bandages afterward. Curtis was patient with Matt, especially when he helped change the dressings for his injured arm. Despite the lack of responses, Curtis continued to ask Matt how he felt, if he was experiencing any pain, if anything felt off.

_Everything felt off._

Curtis had done a few eye checks on Matt, telling him that he needed to make sure Eyesore's influence didn't have any long-lasting effects. The satisfied hum from the other man told Matt that his eyes seemed to be okay for now. 

"The yellow glow around the irises isn't there anymore," Curtis informed him. "They're still pretty bloodshot, but I think enough sleep will have you covered. Have you been getting any sleep?" 

Matt didn't answer. 

Curtis waited for a few minutes for one, but he never got an answer when the room got quiet for too long. "Alright, I'll be putting some sleeping pills at the nightstand on your left. A bottle of water and your cane are on the stand as well. I'll come back later with some antibiotics." 

_On your left._

Matt gave a small nod, which was the closest thing to an answer Curtis got. Once Curtis left the room, Matt continued to stare at nothing as he leaned back against the pillows. 

Of course, no one would put anything useful on the right side of the bed. 

Not when Matt's arm was out of commission. 

It wasn't a massive problem for him; Matt had always been left-handed, despite the nuns' attempts in making him right-handed. Some would consider him as ambidextrous, but Matt had always preferred his left hand. Curtis was considerate to leave the pills at his good side, but Matt didn't need them. He didn't want to take the drugs because they would only muddle his senses further, and Matt wanted to have _some_ awareness. 

He didn't want to feel completely useless just yet. 

  
  


* * *

Matt idly wondered what Frank was doing. 

Days went by with the two of them in their rooms of solitude, and Matt couldn't get Frank out of his head. 

No matter what he did, Matt's heart refused to let go. 

Frank's heartbeat was heard throughout the house, some days within the room next door, other days around the living room. The other man was being more active than Matt, but Frank’s hint of disinterest was hidden in how he moved. 

However, that shouldn't be Matt's problem.

He planned on leaving the house once his body recovered— no need to further burden Frank with the sight of someone who betrayed his trust. 

  
  


Matt's awareness slowly increased as the days went by, but he still refused to leave the room. Food only added more to nausea. Anything hot sent Matt's mind into a fit, and he would refuse to eat it, even if his stomach protested. Matt's legs threatened to keel over if he tried to walk beyond the steps of the room. The beard on his face had grown more since the days with the Unspoken, and he couldn't find it in himself to shave it off. The energy he had before was slowly leaving him as the nightmares continued. Curtis gave him a few waterproof pads and some plastic bags to secure the bandages in place for showers. Thankfully, the main bedroom had a bathroom inside. But the cold showers were used as an excuse to reflect on the events from before. Matt didn't stay in the shower for long once the memories got louder than the running water. 

One day, Curtis brought Matt's phone back from Fogwell's Gym, the battery in place, and a new screen. Matt had thanked him quietly, wondering if Frank was the one that found it in the first place. Then the harsh tone in Matt's head tightened its grip around his chest. There was no need to think about Frank when he was going to leave soon. There was no point in listening to every notification from the group— Marc and Jessica mostly— who wanted to know if Matt's condition and wanted to hear back from him. 

Matt didn't bother responding to any of them. 

He turned off his phone. 

There was no use for it anyway. 

The nights where Matt would jolt awake drenched in sweat were the ones that made him remember everything too vividly. 

It wasn't new to him. The night terrors that plagued Matt's dreams were consistent and dragged him away from reality too quickly. However, the nightmares that felt too real were the ones that genuinely haunted Matt to no end. The only thing that greeted Matt whenever he woke up from his night terrors were the bandages around his arm. The cruel, sick reminder of what happened with the Unspoken. Of what _he_ had done. 

Matt's arm would hurt sometimes, and he couldn't help but grip onto the gauzes as his memory reeled over the past events again. It went on like this for a few more nights, and in his dazed state, Matt started to believe that this was his punishment. Everything he had done within the Unspoken as Infrared was now permanently marked on his arm. The fires he started, the hell he raised, the pain he caused to the people closest to him— this was what Matt deserved. 

Matt didn't get much sleep that night, nor the next one. He barely got any sleep for the nights that followed, but there were moments in the late hour when a familiar drumming came through. Alongside it came a soft voice:

_One batch… two batch… penny and dime._

It was the only thing that eased Matt into unconsciousness, and he wondered how he would ever fall asleep again after his departure. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Frank was starting to make his presence again. 

Matt didn't know why he would ever want to see him again, but Frank started to visit him. 

Frank was always calm and quiet when he visited him. He would ask Matt how he was feeling, how much sleep he was getting— all of the crucial questions that Matt refused to answer. Frank was persistent in his questions, probably trying to strike up a conversation and get some words flowing out of Matt's mouth. However, Matt didn't want to engage in small talk. He was trying to recover from this nightmare so that he could leave for good. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Frank asked one day when Matt was curled up on his left side. 

Matt didn't say anything. He didn't even give Frank a small hum of acknowledgment. Matt continued to lay on his side, holding his bandaged arm close to his chest. 

"Red?"

Matt continued to stay silent. 

Frank got the message and left the room, an underlying frustration that Matt caught when he turned around. However, it was buried underneath the patience the other man had. 

He was going to try again. 

Matt didn't care. 

  
  
  


Frank continued to visit him as the weeks went by, life continuing without them. He still asked Matt the same questions again, and Matt continued to be unresponsive. The pain in his arm was starting to ease, but Matt couldn't ignore the blisters and damaged skin. Frank asked about his arm, and Matt lied to him, saying it was getting better. Eventually, Frank stopped testing the waters around Matt and decided to be upfront with everything. 

"We need to talk," Frank said one night. 

Matt stayed silent. 

"Red," Frank said again. "We need to talk about what happened." 

"No, we don't," Matt answered. 

There was a baffled sound that came from Frank. "Yes, we do; you've been in this room for weeks, and you're not going to say anything about what happened? About the Unspoken?" 

"The Unspoken is gone," Matt said simply. "The mission is over. We finished the job. Once I fully recover, I'll be out of your hair."

"What?" Frank practically recoiled at the response. "The hell are you talking about?" 

"I'm waiting for my injuries to heal completely. After that, I'll leave," Matt said. "We're done with the mission, Frank. We don't have to keep working together." 

"Wait a minute; you can't just—" Frank stopped himself for a moment, still processing what Matt had said to him. "— you can't just leave without at least telling me what's going on with you."

Matt tightened his grip on the sheets. "I don't need to tell you anything. The mission is done, Frank. We can go our separate ways and move on." 

"No, I need answers Red," Frank responded with a grunt. "I need to know why you put yourself through Eyesore. There's so much we need to talk about, and you can't just avoid it by leaving." 

_Yes, I can,_ Matt thought bitterly. "I already told you why I did it. I don't have to repeat myself."

Frank wasn't backing down. "You didn't give me the full truth, Red. You were out of your mind and under Eyesore's influence." 

"Yes, and now I'm not under his influence anymore," Matt retorted. "So I'm telling you that you already know the damn answer. I don't have to repeat myself." Matt turned to lie on his good side again, cradling his right arm carefully. He was done talking. 

_"Insufferable,"_ Frank muttered under his breath before he went to the door again. With his hand on the knob, Frank turned his head. "I'm still gonna wait for an answer. I'll be here whenever you feel like talking." 

Their poor excuses for conversations continued like that for a couple more nights. Frank was tenacious. Matt can give him some credit. However, that wasn't going to make Matt spill any more information anytime soon. Even though a small part of Matt was touched by how Frank visited him so often, Matt knew deep down that it was better to be apart. It hurt like hell to think that way, but it would be better for the both of them, right? 

  
  
  


At least, that's what the nightmares would suggest. 

The bottle of sleeping pills was still full on top of the nightstand. Matt wanted to take them. He wanted to have a dreamless sleep, but he couldn't find the strength to do anything. He thought it was better to lie awake in torment than accidentally overdosing just so that he may never wake up again.

Matt stayed away from the memories that reminded him of the Unspoken. He didn't want to remember the fires or the destruction of the final plan— none of that. 

God, he wanted to sleep. 

Matt would close his eyes and allow himself to be taken by sleep. He would then wake up in a cold sweat, with the sheets tangled and the sound of items clattering onto the floor. The door was open across from him, and Matt immediately sat up, defensive and already clutching onto his burned— _injured_ , it's _fine,_ it will _heal_ — arm. 

"Easy, it's just me."

Frank was here again.

Matt slowly settled down again, still holding onto his arm. "What is it?" 

"Are you alright? I heard a few things get knocked over in your room," Frank said. 

"It's fine, I'll be fine," Matt said curtly, lying down and sighing. "Sorry if I woke you up." 

"It's okay, I was already awake anyway," Frank responded, before adding, "Do you need anything?" 

"No," Matt said. 

"Do you want me to stay?" 

Too many answers began to erupt in his mind, but Matt ignored the ones that would make him happy. 

"No." 

Frank nodded and left him alone for the night, and Matt began to hate himself even more as Frank's footsteps receded. He still didn't get any sleep that night.

Or the next night. 

Or the night after that. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Reality finally came crashing down on Matt one night, and he couldn't handle it anymore. 

Lights flashed behind his eyes, waking him up. The smell of smoke filling the air again. 

The bed felt like it was ready to crumble underneath him, but it felt steadier than Matt could ever be. The sheets were rough underneath his fingertips, and Matt flinched at the fabrics touching him. It was hell on his skin. Mayhem was unveiling in his mind. 

The bandages on his arm laughed at him. They did nothing but spite him in a way that Matt couldn't take anymore. He was ready to rip the bandages off of his injuries– _burns._ They're burn marks. For Christ's sake, a part of his arm was burned, and— _oh god_ , it was never going to heal the same way again. It was going to scar, the nerves won't work correctly, and it will stay on Matt's skin as a permanent reminder of what he had done. What a cruel and perfect punishment for the fallen arsonist.

Suddenly, there it was again. 

The steady drumming.

The door opened slowly, allowing soft footsteps to enter the room. Matt hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Frank finally spoke up. 

"Are you alright?" 

God, the way Frank sounded was so kind, so _gentle._ There was so much tenderness in Frank's voice that it almost gave Matt whiplash. That was a voice Frank would use on someone he cared about. Someone that he— 

There was that warmth in Matt's chest again. 

Only this time, it began to increase, refusing to be shut down again. 

Matt couldn't take it anymore.

"No," Matt admitted, shuddering as he slowly sat up. He refused to face Frank like this. He didn't want to show his cowardice so quickly. "I'm not okay; I don't think there will be a chance where I'll be okay again." 

"Red," Frank started, steadily approaching the bed. "Please, talk to me." 

"Why are you still here?" Matt asked. "Why do you keep trying to get close to me? After everything I've done, why do you keep _trying?"_

"Don't do that to yourself," Frank said. "You need to stop doing that to yourself. All I wanted were some answers on why you did it, everything." There was a wave of rising anger right at the edge of his tone. "Why did you have to go and destroy yourself like that? Huh? Did you really have to be such a martyr that you couldn't let me handle Eyesore? Was that it?" 

Now Matt felt a flare ignite inside him. The devil reeled at the accusation, and his broken mind clashed against it again. 

"For God's sake, enough with that! This isn't about being a martyr. This was about the damn mission!" Matt hissed, now facing Frank with his teeth bared. "I had to take Eyesore's influence! It was the only way the mission was going to succeed." 

Frank gave an unsatisfied growl. "You think I couldn't handle Eyesore's power? Is that it?" 

"No, that wasn't it," Matt gritted his teeth. "It had to be me, Frank. It was integral to the mission that the Unspoken had to be taken down. If you were the one that was under Eyesore's influence, I would've hesitated." 

It was the full truth, and it was enough to silence the atmosphere. 

There was an uncomfortable silence that went on for too long, both men staring at each other with nothing to say. Frank was trying to find the words. He was trying to figure out what to say after receiving an answer like that. Before Matt could say another word, Frank slowly found his voice. 

"What— no, you wouldn't," Frank said in disbelief. "You can't be— are you seriously saying that you would have hesitated in taking me down? That doesn't make any… you wouldn't risk the mission like that, Red."

Matt closed his eyes for a moment, almost in defeat. "Yes, I would; Better if I was the one that got caught up in Eyesore's influence instead of you. Because let's face it, Frank, you're the best person out of everyone in the group to handle any situation. You always have a back-up plan, no matter what happens. If things go south, you're the one to fix everything." Matt gave out a small, humorless laugh. "That's what makes you so goddamn incredible. You _never_ give up— you never back down. If it were your teammate that messed with the mission, you would handle it without hesitation." 

Frank was in shock from the words that came from Matt's mouth. It must've been the most Matt has spoken since the night of the final plan. 

"You really think that?" Frank asked. "You really think that you would've hesitated?"

"I _know_ I would've hesitated. If you were under Eyesore's control, I wouldn't be able to face you. I would've hesitated, panic, do anything but fight you," Matt said desperately. "Don't you get it? You're the strongest out of the both of us. I would've risked it all just because I couldn't stand the idea of ever hurting you." The memory of the office building said otherwise, and the familiar ache in his chest couldn't agree with it more. "Well, I guess that was a lie since I went out of my way to stab you in your weak point." 

"Y'know I forgive you, right?" Frank said carefully. "That wasn't you, Red. It's okay—"

"No, it's not okay. That _was_ me, Frank! I _wanted_ to stab you!" Matt growled. 

"And I _wanted_ to shoot you in the head back when we first met, and you moved past it!" Frank shouted. "Why can't I do the same?" 

"You didn't know me. That was different— it was a warning shot," Matt had a vice grip on his head. "I already know you, Frank! We've worked together for almost two years now, and I decided to lose my fucking mind and stab you! And for some godforsaken reason, you thought it was okay to stick around still and forgive me!" Another sad, pitiful laugh escaped him. "And I thought _I_ was the lunatic." 

"Stop it; you're not a lunatic. Alright? Some jackass old man used emotional manipulation on you and fucked with your head. That wasn't your fault," Frank explained. 

"How do you keep doing this?" Matt felt like his mind was breaking again. "You keep forgiving me like it's nothing. I don't get it. I don't understand why you're still here!" Matt glared at Frank, feeling like a cornered animal. "Everyone leaves me. They always do. Why is it that you haven't done the same?" 

Frank's heartbeat spiked up from the way Matt spoke. It made him get so close to Matt that it felt like there was no escape. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Frank said with sheer confidence. "I'm not going to be like everyone else and abandon you. That's not me. Don't think for a second that I'm just gonna turn my back on you because I won't. Push me away all you want, but I'm not going to leave your side, Red. No matter what." 

The final endnote on what Frank had said resonated in a way that Matt couldn't handle.

He didn't know whether to laugh or scream. 

Matt decided that the entire confession was so bizarre to his ears that he couldn't help but laugh. However, it sounded closer to crying. 

Frank was serious. 

Dear God, he was _serious._

"You're going to waste your time over an empty husk of a person like me?" Matt asked, shaking his head. "Why would you do that to yourself?" 

"I'm not wasting any time; I’m right where I'm supposed to be," Frank said, his gentle tone returning. "I'm just as broken as you are, Red. Who else is going to understand, huh? I already told you, I'm staying by your side no matter what happens. I can't leave you like this." 

The air shifted again, and Matt realized that Frank was right in front of him, trying to get close while maintaining his distance. Matt broke the invisible border he held for so long, just to feel Frank again. He felt the gauze underneath the shirt fabric covering the stab wound on Frank's clavicle. It felt like yesterday when they were sparring in the ring, and Matt insisted that Frank protect his weak point. He was one of the few people that knew about it, and he broke that trust by attacking it. Frank forgave Matt wholeheartedly, with a determination that would sweep him off his feet if he was standing. 

Frank didn't flinch when Matt touched the gauze. Instead, he moved closer and sat on the side of the bed. Matt couldn't believe that Frank was putting so much trust in him. To be near the person who gave him the wound in the first place. 

The dam finally broke. 

  
  


Matt lowered his head while his shoulders sagged heavily. Frank caught the cue and moved closer, his arms coaxing Matt to let it all out. Matt allowed Frank to envelop him, allowed him to soothe him in a way that made Matt practically melt. It felt so good, so _comforting_ for them to be in each other's embrace. Matt immediately wrapped his arms around Frank, clinging onto him as his life depended on it. A soft hiccup escaped Matt, only to develop into a quiet sob, and he deflated into Frank with a shudder. 

"I'm sorry, Frank," Matt whispered, pressing his face into Frank's shoulder. "I never wanted to— fuck, I'm so sorry about _everything_." He felt the gauze again. "I should've never done that to you…" 

There was some shaking on Frank's end, and Matt realized that the other man was also releasing his bottled-up grievances.

"It's okay. I’m sorry too, Matt," Frank told him. "I didn't mean to come off like such an asshole. I just… I just didn't want to lose you again."

"I appreciate it, really," Matt said, trying to reassure Frank as best as he could. "I don't know what I could do to make it up to you. I don't know how to fix what I've done." 

"There's no need for that," Frank said, moving away slightly to face Matt again. He was careful around Matt's right arm as well. "We can do better. You and I can try to pick up the pieces again and heal together. That's not a bad idea, right?" 

Matt felt Frank's hand move through a few strands of hair that covered his face. The warmth in his chest was humming, and Matt couldn't help but beam at the proposition. It was the best attempt they could make, and Matt wasn't opposed to the idea. Helping each other heal was a good option for them to take. 

"I'd like that," Matt said. "I don't mind healing with you." 

There was contentment that was almost audible to Matt's ears, and it was enough to convey Frank's answer. 

They stayed in each other's arms for a while longer, making sure that they had everything out before calming down. The walls that Matt built for weeks quickly came crashing down as soon as Frank whispered sweet promises. Now that the last resort came to a close, they can work on themselves again. 

The late hour and the dry tears gave them enough exhaustion to fall asleep. Frank ended up lying next to Matt, breathing slowly as he slept. Matt allowed himself to drift away once he heard Frank's heartbeat go back to its steady rhythm again. 

For once, Matt had a dreamless sleep, and the morning wasn't overbearing anymore.

They had all the time in the world to move forward. 


End file.
